


Dead Man's World

by DWilde1891



Series: Revival [1]
Category: Supernatural, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, BAMF Daryl, BAMF Rick, BAMF Winchesters, Bottoming from the Top, Established Relationship, M/M, Rimming, including John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-21 12:22:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 72,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2468138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DWilde1891/pseuds/DWilde1891
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cut off, beat down with few places left to turn Sam and Dean encounter a group of survivors holed up in an old military fort. Captured and imprisoned, John Winchester unexpectedly comes to the rescue once again. </p><p>Setting everything right with nothing left to loose, while holding a tenuous alliance with Rick Grimes and his small group of ultra efficient and ruthless marauders will be the difference between what things are, and what they might become.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My knowledge of American history is limited. I apologise for any offence caused, I intend to learn as I go. Bear with!

It was time to run.

Slinging one heavy bag over his shoulder, Rick shouted the order, "Retreat! Now!" and hung back to take out the first handful of Walkers as his people hurried to obey. Once they were out of his periphery, Rick swung the AK to his side and slipped the knife out of his belt. Jogging a little behind, keeping an eye on the road, noticing that the number of shuffling, groaning bodies was increasing, counting up the exit routes they were losing.

"Left! Take the alley!" he called.

They were pouring in from the west side of town, the highway. Cutting them off from the cars they used to get here, and the rest of the group hauled up in an old fort just out of town.

A few more roads, some lone Walkers dispatched too easy. Following Rick's instructions they appeared in another white picket neighbourhood. Chances of them getting out with a herd that big was nil-they needed to hide, wait, until it was gone. Scanning the road, Rick headed uphill, recalling the big old house they'd seen on their first drive through the town.

"We hide and camp until they're gone." he ordered, a little out of breath, the knife tight in his fist, "I saw a house."

"I saw." Daryl nodded.

"We take it. Come on." and he surged ahead again, his people falling in step behind. This space was clear. Dead Walkers with holes in their head left decomposing on the ground. He glanced at Daryl, he'd noticed it too.

"Ain't the only people to have come through here." he muttered in a low drawl.

"Only ones alive as far as I can see." Rick responded, his blue eyes moving ceaselessly, listening out for any sign of trouble as they jogged up to the house, or museum if the bronze plaque was anything to go by. High walls and a big wrought iron fence. They fanned out and kept cover while Maggie broke through the padlock holding gates together. Shuffling through, quickly tightening them closed again and continued moving.

More dead Walkers littered the lawn, their bodies camouflaged by drifting Autumn leaves. No more than a couple of days by Daryl's reckoning. The building was red brick, the windows inlayed with white, it was old, sturdy, the front door left wide open. Wiping his mouth with the fist holding his knife Rick paused, waited for everyone to fall in position and nodded once.

This building might have been a little bigger than what they were used to clearing, but it was no cluttered farm house. Creaking floorboards and clear lines of sight meant they were over and done in ten minutes. Another twenty before they were locked up tight again. There were dead Walkers scattered here too, taken out in the same efficient way as the others out back in the street.

"We stay the night." Rick stated, slipping the knife back into his belt, "See how it's looking come morning."

Rick took off then, leaving them all to run through supplies and search through the house to find stuff to sleep on. Turns out there wasn't a whole lot. Everything was old. Preserved. Later in the evening Daryl was standing alone in one the display rooms, peering at a portrait of some old guy in a suit. There was a faint step nearby and Daryl's ears twitched.

Rick slunk up to his side, reading the plaque. William Williamsburg-1835-1888.

"Damn Yankee." Daryl muttered.

"Friends with Abe Lincoln. Military man. Collector." Rick noted, glancing up at the face once again. Flat, nothing special, "This his house?"

"Seems so." Daryl shifted away and Rick fell instep behind him. They'd left everyone downstairs. Darkness was beginning to fall and this old house was shifting, settling as the wind picked up outside.

"Kansas a bit out the way for a guy like him." Rick mused softly, taking in the shadows as they distorted the ornate hallway. Mahogany, the sweet scent of old floor polish lingered still. Surviving the dust and decay.

"Got a wife." Daryl answered, "Kansas girl."

"Must'a missed the big city." he murmured, as they headed into another room at the back, door slotting shut behind them, "Kansas ain't nothin' but fields now..."

"Can't say I care much for his reasons." Daryl lit a candle and placed it on the stand beside the bed.

Rick's lips twisted into a smirk as he took in the bed. Double, easily, with posts. An ancient spread. Daryl's arms fell still at his sides, observing Rick. Just waiting.

"Dead man's bed?" Rick asked, running rough fingertips along the velvet ropes separating it from the rest of the room.

"Dead man's world." Daryl replied.

Rick took in Daryl's body. Relaxed as it could ever be. No fidgeting fingers, calm, watchful. Covered in denim and leather to keep out the increasing chill. Winter was going to be harsh this year, he could feel it.

"Take it all off." he ordered.

At once Daryl began, his eyes never moving from Rick's as he made himself comfortable on the bed. Sliding up the sheets. Watching as Daryl's fingers trailed along his skin, the dip between his pecs, across the scars on his stomach, the bulging muscles of his arms. Dark and dirty. Too much road dust, dead things, clinging to the sweat on his body.

"Get the rope. Come here."

Sliding the heavy velvet ropes from the brass stands, Daryl edged on the bed, crawling over to Rick on his knees. They stared at each other in the dark, breathing the same stale breath, on the same stale bed that itched and scratched from a century of starch. Daryl was waiting again, his heart thudding, the rope clutched tightly in his fingers. The candle flickered, Rick's eyes darted to it, and that was the trigger.

Daryl was on his back. Rick was tearing his clothes off, ridding layer after layer while Daryl watched, corner of his lip bitten tight, heart pounding with fear, with excitement, cock already straining. As efficient as he was at all things, Rick had snatched up the rope, knotted round Daryl's wrists and pulled them tight around the old posts without a seconds fumbling or hesitation.

"Don't pull too hard now." Rick breathed in Daryl's ear, "Dead man's bed might not survive us."

Daryl tugged tight, the velvet rope was soft but unforgiving against his skin. The bed creaked, cracked. He jerked his head once in agreement. Rick's expression shifted again and Daryl groaned as those damn lips, those damn teeth started their work on his body. Nipples first, lathered, bitten, hips, stomach, claves, all teased, strategically tormented until he was rocking the bed, desperate to grab Rick, to grind, all the while taut, tense. Waiting for the command.

"You've been so good Daryl." Rick murmured, as his fingers started the slow drag beneath his balls to his ass, "Covered me all day. Kept moving. By my side-always showing them how it's done." he kissed the back of Daryl's thigh, lifted it over his shoulder, "If only they knew. How much my man your were."

For a man of few words, Rick sure knew how to pick em. Daryl's eyes rolled up in his head, twisting the ropes, testing the knots. He wasn't there yet. So close. Rick was leading him down.

"Dammit Rick!" he hissed, and was rewarded with a sharp bite on his inner thigh. He gasped, groaned, trying to settle, to break down.

"You listen for me." he reminded, one finger following the seam of his ass that was pulled tight, "Now. You let it go now."

Daryl sighed and relaxed. His ass loosened, twitched, and Rick slid his finger in and grinned, feral with satisfaction as a stream of come from last night was spread out along the strong muscles of Daryl's ass. He leant in, lapped at it and Daryl almost lost it. A fresh surge of lust swept through his body, pulling it tight again, the bed creaking as he arched off the sheets.

"Easy." Rick breathed, crawling back up Daryl's body, taking his lips, shifting until he sat on Daryl's thighs, "Now you get your reward."

He sank down on Daryl's straining cock, so certain, so sudden that Daryl nearly blacked out from the shock of it. Body pulled taut from use, fast, smart, Rick added his weight to the ropes at Daryl's wrists and used him. Held him down, took and took and took until there was only sweat, heat and the mind numbing pleasure where their bodies joined. Unable to hold it anymore, caught in a knife edge of fear and arousal all day, Daryl followed Rick's command and came, kept on comin until there was nothing left.

Breathing hard, blurry in the darkness, Daryl barely had a second before his legs were up, lifted, and Rick was inside him. Moving a little slower now, though still sure, still determined.

"I ain't done with you yet."

He pulled at Daryl's hair, made him look up, keep eye contact as the bed shook and rocked against the creaking floor. Once was never enough. Rick played his body, hit the right points,  at the right time until Daryl was pulled further down. All body. His insides teased and toyed with until he was hard again, fingers tied up in the red ropes, legs wrapped up around Rick's snake hips that snapped, snapped, snapped until Daryl was left with no more thought, no more choice and came again. A lower groan, a sigh of relief until he felt it. Rick's body coming tight as his ass was filled again.

Sliding out, Daryl's legs dropped, mind clear and calm for the first time in days. Rick didn't untie the ropes. Left them until he saw some awareness slip back into Daryl's expression. He blinked.

"I reckon they might of heard us this time." he drawled.

Rick shrugged, "Ain't none of their business."

He wiped Daryl down with some cloth, did the same to the seam of his ass and shifted back into clothes before pulling loose the rope. Daryl examined his wrists. No marks, "We're keeping that rope."

Rick caught his eye, smirked, then chucked Daryl's clothes up at him, "Get dressed. We got a perimeter to check."


	2. Chapter 2

"You sure it's here?"

"That's what the journal said."

Dean scanned the building, heavily fortified, Walker traps set up in all strategic positions, someone standing at every watch tower. The herd had shuffled by a little while ago, eating up the town and widening out into the flat fields on the horizon. Groans carried on the wind.

"Okay then-we aren't gonna get another chance like this."

Dean ducked down, kept close to the shadows and ran with Sam close at his heels. They had been observing the fort the last few days ever since the Williamsburg house. A group had taken up residence, no doubt hunkering down for the winter. They were having trouble identifying true numbers but they'd managed to work out a guard pattern, making a few instinctive leaps on what the command structure might be.

That afternoon a car had gone out on a supply run and hadn't come back. Deterred by the herd no doubt. If they had any sense they wouldn't take the risk and save the travelling back until morning. If they wanted to get in and get out without detection, this was their only chance. 

Dean kept his eye on the gate as Sam set the flare. It caught light, surged, and the heavily varnished wood caught light. A bright flare of heat that the nearest guard wouldn't miss. A woman's voice called out.

Ducking near the gate, the only way in or out, Sam and Dean listened out for the hushed exchange taking place just the other side of the gate.

"Carol spotted a surge of fire on the east side of the compound." a man's deep voice stated.

"Everyone in position?" a woman responded.

"Yes maam."

Dean and Sam exchanged glances. Noting both the speed of response as well as their concise communication.

The gate nearby was opened an inch. Two shadows moved towards the flames. Sam aimed another flare, throwing it in the other direction and there was a shout. Another hushed selection of orders they couldn't quite catch.

Now or never, Sam threw their last straight at the gate. There was a surge of light and in the sudden confusion they slipped in through the blind spots. Switching one set of shadows for another. Dean quickly counted the cover of the gate. Uneven numbers, uneven cover. The few on the guard towers distracted by locating the source of the fire.

Heading through the nearest door, they followed what used to be the visitor entrance until they were in one of the side rooms. Dean kept cover, listening out for movement while Sam ducked in to get what they came here for.

"Let's go." Sam threw his back pack over his shoulder and they were on the move again, not daring to try the same route they'd come in by.

They were both listening out, for the cock of a gun, shuffle of a step, murmur of communication but there was nothing. These people were quiet. Dean hated it. Got the sinking feeling that they were on the verge of becoming the hunted.

The gate was already locked tight by the time they reached it. Dean turned, headed back to the nearest door and found a gun in his face.

"Not a step further."

"Dammit!"

They both paused, getting their bearings as three more slunk out of the shadows. Two women. One young, brunette, hot. The other older, smouldering and a huge black guy with a hammer. Steady gazes. Steady hands.

"Drop it." the older woman commanded, "All of it."

They sighed and exchanged glances. They didn't want to test these people, didn't want to kill the few left alive. Dropping weapons and bags, they allowed themselves to be manhandled, then cuffed. Dragged through the bleak hallway into what used to be the staff only areas.

They were led by the kid that had shoved his gun in their face, surrounded on all sides and thrown into a boiler room. Locked tight with only a candle for light, a small window shaft pointless in the dark.

Dean sighed and slumped back against the wall, "Well fuck." he muttered.

"Civilians." Sam said gruffly in agreement.

"What do we do now genius?"

"Sit tight-see what they want?" Sam shrugged, "At least they skipped the gagging part."

"It's so fucked up that the world ends-again-and the only difference between our lives before and lives after is the lack of pie."

Sam paused, listened for the telltale growl of Dean's stomach and nodded to himself. Dean caught it and scowled, "Shut up bitch."

Unwilling to reply, Sam leant back against the nearest wall and stretched out his mile long legs, trying his hardest to pull out the kink in his neck after being crouched in the dirt for hours on end, "We're getting too old for this man."

Dean ducked his head in agreement, "We were too damn old before it all went to hell."

Sam hummed and closed his eyes, "We're not going anywhere. Might as well try to get some sleep."

"No shit."

"Shut the fuck up Dean."

Gnawing the inside of his lip and scowling, Dean watched Sam until sitting on his own got boring. He shuffled over to his brother and slipped down so he could rest his head on Sam's thigh, curling into his heat against the cold concrete. With nothing but the flickering of the candle and Sam's breathing for company, Dean eventually settled down, caving into sleep at the last possible moment.

\--- 

The next day they were woken by the same three that had picked them up last night. Dragged apart, their cuffed hands shifted from back to front, and a bowl of food and bottle of water promptly dropped on the floor in front of them.

"Ah honey you just saved my life." Dean all but sang at the hot girl wearing kick ass Lara Croft boots, pulling his lips into a leer, "Whatever can I do to repay such kindness?"

Sam snorted at the disgusted look on her face, "Losing your touch bro."

"How the hell can that be possible? There are less men now. Less!"

"More of a reason to get choosy." Sam returned, settling down to eat, "Now shut your pie hole and eat.

"Don't you talk to me about pie." Dean muttered, falling down beside him and picking at the watery oatmeal, looking down, watching from the corners of his eyes as they backed out one by one, weapons still raised.  

Sam licked the spoon thoughtfully, "These people are smart man."

"Gotta be to keep surviving." Dean stated, trying not to envy the cold metal his brother was now lathering with his tongue.

Sam hummed, thoughts getting tucked away in that computer of a brain. Dean sipped from his plastic bottle, lips loitering, attention drifting away from the ever present danger they were in to something a little bit more vital. And fun. Sam noticed the attention and smirked, "Really Dean."

"Really Sammy."

Kicking the empty bowls aside, Dean clambered onto his brother's lap and was at his mouth, determined to lick out the taste of that damn spoon. Shoving his cuffed hands over Sam's neck, Dean ground down, grinning at the hiss through his teeth.

"Fuck these fucking cuffs." Sam said in a low voice as his fingers dragged up beneath Dean's shirt.

"A lot of swears there Sammy." Dean warned, dragging his teeth along Sam's hot neck.

"Gonna punish me Dean?" he murmured, nails catching Dean's nipples, tugging him closer to close over the nearest with his lips as Dean surged up against him, "Tell me what a bad boy I am?"

"Not a chance." he breathed, "You know I love it when you're bad."

There was a rattle outside the door and the scrape of lock. Dean twisted and dropped off Sam's lap. The older woman again, weapon at her side, taking their measure.

"Bathroom break." she said in a clear, neutral voice.

Dean threw her a filthy look, "Sure, fine, whatever." he stood up, Sam just behind, he had further to go after all. When she remained still he gestured to the door, "Get a move on. We were in the middle of something here."

"Calisthenics." Sam supplied.

Dean snorted, threw a look over his shoulder, "That what it's called now?"

Trying her hardest not to roll her eyes, Carol opened the door further and gestured to the bathroom across the hall, flanked by Maggie and Tyreese once again. They were pulled in one after another. Usually Dean would have made a few jokes about having seen Sam's junk before but he sensed this wasn't the right crowd.

When the door to their cell was clicked shut once again, Dean slunk up to Sam, "Let's get our cardio on."

\--

The sunlight had shifted into darkness once again by the time they were pulled up out of their cell. Someone new this time. A black chick.

"Is that a katana!?" Dean demanded, greedy green eyes taking in the beautiful steel blade currently aligned with his throat, "You see this Sammy? A fucking katana. You kill Walkers with a goddamn katana."

"Quit the fan girling." Sam said, nodding to the woman that they were ready to follow.

"I want a katana."

"We _have_ a katana."

"Well I want to start using it. Hey lady-where'd you learn? Is there a manual or something?"

"Katana for Dummies?"

"Shut up Sammy."

"I'd cut down on the crap if I were you." the woman said in a cool voice, glancing at them over her shoulder.

Dean looked like he was considering it, "Not sure that's going to be possible."

She shrugged, "Then don't blame me if you wind up with a bullet between the eyes."

"You talking about your leader?" Sam questioned, the playfulness shedding as they were walked further into the compound, aware of who was flanking them. Different people now. Another black guy and a blonde girl, early twenties at most.

Next minute they were in a what was probably once a conference room.  Square, a big round table. A few lights rigged around the walls. Dean scanned and counted. Ten altogether. Scattered about the room. All young and able, in the main. Dirty, tired looking and suspicious.

Their bags were dumped at the other side of the table, the Williamsburg journal tossed among their weapons and supplies.

"You got a baby and a katana?" Dean demanded, getting more and more outraged at the clear badassery of this group of survivors.

The man that had been leaning over their stuff pulled up straight, a pretty blonde little girl on one hip, a gun resting on the other. It was alarming that he seemed totally at ease with both.

"Well the baby came first." the man said in a soft, somewhat sensual drawl that seemed to slide along the skin of both susceptible Winchester's, "Though the katana wasn't long after."

"Given up on names?" the woman wielding the weapon drawled.

"No." sharp blue eyes surveyed his prisoners, "Care to introduce yourselves boys?"

Dean stood up straighter, smirked, "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

The guy's much too red, much too sexy lips twitched in what could have been amusement, "This ain't no social gathering."

"No? You guys look like you could do with a party."

"That what you bringin'?" he asked, a low level of threat rumbling through his voice, "The party?"

If there was one thing Sam and Dean had learned to identify over many years, it was crazy. And this guy. Had it in waves.

"Why are we still alive?" Sam changed tact.

"Because I wasn't here." he replied without losing a beat, "Want to tell me why you were breaking and entering?" he picked up the small enamel portrait that they had grabbed, "Seems like a funny time to start grabbing stuff that was already worthless before it all went to hell...not to mention you boys sure don't seem the delicate type."

"I resent that." Dean retorted, "Sammy has the hands of a pianist."

"Sure as hell play you." he muttered under his breath. Dean shot him a look. Sam held it. And Dean had to look away before he climbed his brother like a tree all over again. Damn urges.

The guy moistened his lips. Which also wasn't fair. Gently canted the alert little girl on his hip.

"This got anything to do with the code in the Williamsburg journal?"

Now that. That got them both.

"What code?" Sam returned, ever the fast thinking lawyer.

The guy gave him a look. No bullshit. No  lies.

"We doin' this the easy way or the hard way?" he only barely gestured and the room went tight around them. Everyone leaning on the walls stood up straight. Some guy with biceps Dean considered licking appeared at the lead guy's shoulder emanating cool, uncomplicated aggression.

"What sort of answer you looking for?" Dean demanded, through with playing nice, he wanted out of here and back to the bunker. Hot shower. Ancient whiskey. Some alone time with Sammy.

"Your names. Now." it was a stern command. Chilly. The heel of his hand now resting on the gun at his hip.

"Fine-for fucks sake-Winchester. Dean Winchester. Sam Winchester. What the fuck does it even matter what our names are?"

The guy searched them both and nodded, as though in confirmation, "Your daddy John Winchester?"

Dean's hackles rose, "Maybe. What's it to you?"

"I knew John Winchester." was the reply.

Double floored. What the hell? Dean took a deep breath, heart pounding. He thought these revelations had ended once they'd quit Heaven and Hell. Fucking worlds end. Drags all sort of bullshit out of the woodwork.

 "Yeah, right. In the biblical sense I'm sure." Dean replied, glaring at the guy who simply looked back, fingers comfortably hooking his gun and his little girl. There was a quirk of his lips and Dean's mouth fell open, "No fucking way! You're bullshitting me!"

The guy wasn't listening, he was handing over the baby and ordering people to clear out, "Daryl, Carl, Carol you need to stay. Maggie could you bring in some food for Sam and Dean. Tyreese remove the cuffs."

"You sure Rick?" the woman, Carol, questioned.

"Yeah I'm sure." he flashed a look over Sam and Dean, watching as their cuffs were removed and the group had dispersed before taking his seat at the table. The guy with the epic body threw himself into the chair at Rick's right, the boy his left. Carol was beside Daryl. Sam and Dean settled opposite.

"You knew our dad?" Sam questioned.

"In the biblical sense?" Dean added, demanded.

Rick wiped a hand over his beard, hiding a smirk, "It was sixteen years ago. King's County. Georgia."

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. King's County. When it started up. They both paused, trying to remember the case.

"Swamp monster!" Dean cried victoriously, "Fucking swamp monster!"  

"Chewing people up." Rick agreed with a nod.

"And you met our dad?" Sam questioned, mentally tallying that Dean had won this round.

"Called him on the FBI bullshit." Rick replied, a dark, secret curl to his lips.

"I bet he loved that..." Dean murmured, before he got distracted all over again, "But seriously? Our dad was a macho asshole!"

"And you were a smart ass twink." Dean shot Sam a glare, "What? I can imagine it!"

"Stop imagining it!"

"Look at him Dean. Sixteen years ago-Sheriff's office?" he looked to Rick for confirmation, held his gaze until there was an acknowledgement, "Yeah-Sheriff's office...uniform?" he didn't wait for a response, didn't need one, "Yeah Dean I can imagine it."

"We were all twinks once." Rick said in a small, slow drawl that raised hair on the back of Dean's neck.

"Now you're something else." Sam leant in, he couldn't help it, his attention briefly sweeping over the boy, the woman, the guy that seemed to breath in sync with Rick.

"Aren't we all?" Rick answered, sitting back, legs splayed wide.

Sam paused. Taking him in. He couldn't remember the last time he'd encountered someone like this guy. Wasn't sure he ever had. The consequence of this hell. He moistened his lips, unaware that they'd gone dry. Dean searched between them, pissed off at the staring match.

"Stop flirting with the enemy Sammy."

"Never stopped you." he replied, reluctantly looking away, breath filling his lungs.

"Perks of being the older brother." Dean muttered, jealousy surging. His eyes caught Daryl's. It was a comfort that he wasn't the only one being left out here.

"You done dad?" Carl demanded, "As far as I'm concerned you never had sex until I was conceived and Judith was a fortunate one off."

"Probably for the best." Carol added in a low voice. They paused when the door was opened, food delivered, and Maggie had departed again before getting to the subject at hand. Rick held Carol's vaguely disapproving gaze, before shifting a little and picking up the enamel they had come to collect, toying with it between slim fingers.

"So-you wanna explain why this little thing here was worth risking your neck?"

Dean had a mouthful of watery soup and a stale bread roll to contend with and looked impatiently at Sam to answer. But not too much. Sam ignored that last bit.

"How much do you know about hunting?"

"...Plenty." Rick replied slowly, "But you'll have to give a run down for my friends here."

Sam licked the soup off his fingertips, gauged his audience and shrugged. Not like it mattered anymore, "So back before it all went to hell, Dean and I used to be Hunters. We killed the things nightmares were made of."

"Vampires, demons, ghosts, shape shifters, werewolves, angels-"

"Angels?" Carl questioned.

"Biggest bunch of dicks you'll ever meet kid." Dean added, "Self righteous, stupid and cannot take a joke."

"That was what you did before everyone went monster?" Carol asked, "Hunted other monsters?"

"'Cept no one knew. We worked off grid." Dean responded.

"Thought it was for the best. Keeping civilians out of it. Saving people." Sam explained, trying to ignore the twinge of guilt. That faint question of how things could have been different if people knew that their fears were more than just imaginary dug into the one code he'd always thought mattered the most.   

"You have anythin' to do with this?" Daryl asked, sharp blue eyes switching from one brother to the other, "Them monsters of yours?"

"That's what we've been trying to figure out." Sam replied, "We've got pretty strong hotlines to Heaven and Hell but no one's taking responsibility."

"Doesn't mean they ain't lyin'." Dean added, "But at the moment we can't prove anythin'. Can't do anythin'. Got nothin' to guide us but the records kept by dead men."

Rick rubbed his face, glanced sidelong at Daryl, "You ain't surprised?"

"I was all but raised in the forest. Killed more than just deer n' squirrels over the years." he shrugged, holding Rick's gaze, seeming to come into focus beneath his attention.

Carol frowned at Sam and Dean, "These monsters. They still around?"

"Not so much anymore, s'far as we can tell." Dean replied.

"Food supply's drying up." Sam added, "We reckon they're still out there, but most are laying as low as we are. Waiting for the storm to pass."

Daryl's attention was suddenly torn away from Rick, "That all you think this is!?" he demanded, "A damn storm!"

Sam sighed and Dean shoved his bowl away, glaring, "Listen buddy. This ain't our first apocalypse-we've both had our world end. More than once. And if there's anything we've learned is that it passes."

"Or you die." Sam stated, his attention trailing back round to Rick who was just watching, listening.

"Or you die." Dean nodded.

"Dad?" Carl questioned, aware that he had a thoughtful expression on, "We gonna tell everyone?"

"Tell them what?" Carol responded, "That we got a couple of ex-hunters taking up space?"

"You got people?" Rick asked instead.

Dean glowered, he was really getting sick of this bullshit, "Why?"

"I want to know if they're on their way here or not." Rick replied, leaning forwards again, "Because what happens next, depends on your ability to keep them the fuck away."

"Or what?" Sam asked, trying to hold back a snarl. This guy seemed to get straight to his damn core. Tugging too hard, too well at all his defences.

"We go to war again." Rick's clear blue eyes were gleaming with bloody promises,  "And I sure as hell ain't losin' this one."

Sam's heart was hammering, there was a flush on his cheeks and it was fucking Dean off, "Yes we have people! But they were told not to come until we'd been missing for three days."

"How long you been gone?" Daryl questioned.

"Two days." Sam finally managed to wrench his attention away, "We leave tomorrow nothing happens. We go back to our lives."

Rick stood up, tucking the diary and enamel into the back of his jeans, "That's a conversation we'll be havin' another day. For now you boys need some sleep-Carol, you mind?

"Cells?"

"No, a room. Whatever we've got spare." he gestured to Carl, who automatically fell in at his side, one arm draped over his shoulder, "Like I said, I knew John Winchester. I'll do his boys as right as I can." he snapped a cold smile, "But if I wake up in the night, and find one of you boys tryin' to go through my stuff lookin' for your stolen goods, ain't nothin' his memory can do for you."

He turned to leave, they were clearly dismissed and Sam frowned, suddenly shouting out, "How did you know he was dead?"

Rick paused, he seemed to consider for a moment, but kept on walking anyway. Daryl was a beat behind. Sam huffed under his breath and ran his fingers through his hair. Carol watched them, before walking ahead, and leading them out into the hallways again, "You want the ground rules?"

"That wasn' it?" Dean growled.

"You guys got lucky." Carol stated, pushing open another anonymous door in the hallway, "If he had come back in a slightly worse mood today it wouldn't matter if he'd known your daddy or not." and with that she slunk away, rounding the nearest corner.

They inspected the space. Small, grey walls. Anything of use already stripped out. There were a couple of sleeping bags bundled in the corner. Sam shut the door as Dean started tugging everything out. Perhaps a little more viciously than needed.

"Dean."

"You wanna tell me what the hell that was Sammy!" he demanded, rounding on his brother.

"What was what about?" Sam groaned, not remotely in the mood for a fight.

"I'm talking about the goo goo eyes you were making at chief psycho!" he cried, throwing the sleeping bag he was unravelling onto the floor in a bundle.

"He knew our dad!"

"When the fuck has that ever mattered to you!"

"You remember that summer Dean?"

"What? Are you an idiot? Of course I remember that summer."

"Yeah-you remember dad that summer?"

Dean paused, frowned, "What point you makin' here?"

Sam reached out and reeled Dean in close, slipping his arms around his brother's waist. Dean grumbled, but allowed himself to get tucked in regardless, "We weren't the only ones that were happy Dean."

Dean settled against Sam's chest, trying to wade through the shit of the last few years to get to the memories. Sammy was sixteen and it was hot. These day's Dean's almost convinced that if they'd been anywhere else apart from Georgia that year nothing would have happened. All the tension would have stayed buttoned up under plaid, rather than dragged out beneath the sweltering sun.

"Truth be told Sammy I'm havin' trouble rememberin' much beyond those sawn off shorts and black wife beaters you took to wearin'."

Sam huffed out a laugh against Dean's neck, "Like you can talk. Working on the car, sweating through everything you owned. Taking three showers a day, forgetting to towel off..."

Dean twisted his head, pressing his lips lightly against Sam's neck, "That was a long time ago now Sammy. We got to think about what's next."

"What's next is we keep this guy on side." Sam murmured, leaning in to press his lips against Dean's, "Because I don't know about you, but I sure as hell don't want him as an enemy."

"Amen to that." Dean agreed before lightly shifting away to arrange the bedding. Sam ran his fingers through his hair again.

Running headlong into dad's memory really wasn't how this hunt was supposed to go. Experience taught that those that knew John Winchester fell into specific groups. Those that he'd pissed off and wanted his legacy dead. Those he'd pissed off and respected him enough to keep his legacy alive.

It seemed Rick was in the latter camp-for now at least. John Winchester only allowed for a limited amount of respite. Was the same when he was alive. It only got worse after he was dead.

\--

John Winchester's boys. This is the last place Rick ever expected them to show up. 

"Gonna run the perimeter again." Daryl mumbled under his breath, about to head directly passed Rick's room when a hand shot out, grabbed his wrist and threw him round, "What the hell Rick!"

"You're not on rotation tonight." he leant back against the door and watched Daryl pace the small space.

"We were attacked!"

"We were infiltrated and all the Walkers that got near were taken care of." Rick said in a calming voice, "You're with me tonight."

Daryl fell still, glared, "You serious?"

"Yeah."

"And this has got nothin' to do with those guys showin' up? Winchester's." he surged in close, got his face right up into Rick's, "That true? You fuck their daddy?"

Rick's hand smacked sharp across Daryl's cheek. There was a beat of silence and they were at each other all over again. Daryl dragged Rick away from the door by his shirt and threw him hard on the floor. They tussled for awhile, biting and scratching before the fire started to settle. Daryl felt his anger slipping, devoured by the devil between his thighs.

Jean's shoved beneath his ass, arms thrown up above his head to keep from touching, Daryl couldn't keep his voice down as Rick took him. Thrown onto his front, knees up, still loose enough from the morning for the burn to be just right.

They hurtled through a climax, grunting and sweating. Daryl collapsed onto the blankets with Rick on his back, still hard, gyrating a little, pleasure continuing to ripple gently through them both.

"Yeah I fucked their daddy." Rick said in a breath, sliding out and falling onto his side. Daryl twisted round to face him, peering through the cool gloom around them.

"You think they can get us outta this?"

"I think that we're gonna need allies." he replied, "And what I learned-there ain't no one you want in your corner more than a Winchester when shit goes south."

Daryl made a vague noise of agreement, "North. East. West. South. Don' matter so much no more."

Rick's lips twitched, he smiled, "Then we remake the map."

Daryl sighed, "Only you Grimes..."

They stripped off the top layers, positioned their weapons within arm's reach and made the most of the few blankets they'd scavenged. Concrete was a bitch. At least the forest floor was softened with moisture.

Daryl settled on his back, Rick's head resting on his chest. Listening for each other's breathing like they did out in the wild. Waiting for the cue.  Daryl slept when Rick did. And tonight it was fast. The only concession Rick seemed to make when they were behind fifteen foot unsalable walls.


	3. Chapter 3

"'Fraid I can't tell you much more than that agent."

John glanced at the Sheriff over the notepad he was writing in, "Anyone that can Sheriff?"

"Maybe-hey Grimes!"

From the other side of the bullpen a young guy spun round, called back across the office, "Yes Sheriff?"

"Come tell the FBI about them bodies you found!"

John tried not to rub his fingers hard across his brow. Sipped from the cup of coffee he'd been handed instead. It made the inside of his mouth numb but it still wasn't the worst he'd ever drank.

"Rick you take over." the Sheriff  lumbered out from behind his desk, "I got some stuff I need to take care of."

"No problem sir." the kid, Grimes, took the Sheriff's seat and flashed John a grin, "How can I help you agent?"

"Five bodies. Two weeks. Torn apart."

"Yup."

John tried not to frown. Southern informality was trying his not considerable amount of patience, "Anything more you can tell me?"

"Depends on what you're looking for agent." the kid leant forward across the desk, "You've seen the bodies. Talked to the victims. Visited the scene of the crime. Not sure what else I can tell you."

"No?" he flipped his notepad shut, stood up, this had been a complete waste of time, "Well thanks for your help Deputy. It's greatly appreciated."

John was at the door of the Sheriff's office when the kid called out, "Know what I did notice?"

Screwing his eyes shut, John took a deep breath and turned around, "Was it in your report?"

"Sure. But you ain't read my report."

"Just got here. Still catching up."

The kid's eyes gleamed. They were blue. The kind of blue that blotted out everything else. Cool, bright and sharp.

John leant against the doorframe and tried to pay a little more attention. Slim. Dark curly hair. Red lips. Hands neatly tucked in the brown belt at his waist. Confident, annoyingly charismatic. The hairs on the back of John's neck were standing up on end just from being looked at.

"Sure agent-we all got workloads." a soft voice, drawling and playful, "You want me to pick you up my report? Get you a copy for the road?"

"You could just tell me what's in it. Save us both some pain."

The kid flashed a smile, "Pain? Is that how that sentence is supposed to go?"

John's eyes narrowed, he didn't appreciate being played with, "I don't have time for this. Tell me what you think I'm missing."

"Blood type."

"Blood type?"

"Yup. Guys round here reckon it's one hell of a coincidence. Five victims, different people, different ages, all picked up by an animal bigger than anything we've seen round these parts for a long time. All B type."

"Coroner didn't mention anything."

"Coroner looks at one body at a time. Not their business to make links."

"Not down this way anyway."

Rick was nearing the edge of John's space now, "I'm sensing some...issues with the way we conduct ourselves round here."

It shouldn't have irritated John as much as it did. He had two boys for Chrissake. Sam was as touchy as a wild cat at the best of times. But he resented being bated. Not by some kid who'd never encountered a nightmare in his life.

"You've got no organisation, no standards. Procedure's a dirty word to you people."

"Procedure ain't no dirty word." his voice had dipped into a growling softness now, gaze clear and unflinching, though his stance remained casual, relaxed, "Got a few that are if you care to hear them?"

John's eyes narrowed. Heat beyond the usual insane Georgia summer was building on his skin. The collar was suddenly too tight. Something was coiling in his gut and he didn't like it.

"Thanks for your help Deputy. I'll let you know if I need anything else."

"You know where you can find me agent." Rick replied, flashing another warm smile, taking a step back, "Best of luck on your hunt."

It was training and willpower alone that forced John to keep walking. He couldn't say for certain what had just happened. Nevertheless he was left with the certainty that whatever it was, he'd lost.

\--

Two nights later John was walking the forest. The bodies had been scattered across a small, three mile radius. It was dense, dark and he was starting to think coming out here alone was a stupid idea. He should have at least taken the time to visit during the day, so he knew what he was looking out for.

Turns out he didn't have a fucking clue. There was a snap of a twig and next thing there was a full weight colliding with his body, smashing him hard onto the floor. The air was knocked hard out of his lungs, and he couldn't get a tight enough handle on the body clambering over him to take a shot.

Growling, heavy breathing and the scrape of sharp teeth at the back of his neck. Scrabbling against the floor, John's mind was looking for purchase. The rest of his body was in panic, frightened into flight as the creature at his back tried to keep him still.

Typical. Of all the ways he could go out, by some unnamed monster in bumfuck nowhere.

Next thing the weight at his back was gone. There was a gunshot, exploding a few feet away. The creature next to him was still. Rolling onto his back, John looked up.

"You're a fuckin' idiot." the kid holstered his weapon and held out a hand for John to take, "Takes years to learn this place and you bein' the arrogant prick you are reckon stumblin' aroun' in the dark's the way to go."

"I was on recon." John growled, stretching out his arm, there was deep scratch on his bicep, "What the fuck are you doing out here?"

"Savin' pretend FBI agents asses." Rick retorted, noting the arm way John was pulling at his arm, "You alrigh'?"

"I'll be fine." John gritted his teeth, then turned his attention to the monster. It was an ugly bastard. Scaly, clawed and damp. He rubbed the drool at the back of his neck with a grimace.

"We need to get rid of that." Rick nodded at the body.

"We don't need to do anything." John muttered irritably, "You need to go back home and leave this to me."

Rick paused. John couldn't really tell in the dark, but he assumed he was receiving an unimpressed look.

"You've got a bum arm. Let's drag the damn thing away and set it on fire." he moved passed John and hefted the dead weight over his shoulder in a fireman's lift. It was a pretty impressive feat of strength for someone so slender.

Trying not to mutter irritably under his breath, John reluctantly followed as Rick moved deftly through the forest until they were somewhere way off the main path, out of the way of casual observers. It took awhile to burn. Georgia was humid and the monster was both dense and wet. It took most a can of lighter fluid to even take.

Only once it had burned into bones did they start the tough work of burying it. Turns out Rick had come prepared with shovels and a flashlight to see by.

Dirty, sweaty and still too wired from near death to be thinking straight the only thing John was in the mood for was a shower and a whiskey. So when Deputy Grimes offered him the use of his house to ascertain both, it was an offer too good to turn down.

The drive back to town was short, Rick was living in a single storey place. Not especially decorated. Mismatched, inherited furniture. An air of ambivalence as though it wasn't all that lived in. Rick lead John through to a bathroom at the back of the house. It was a little dated, but spacious. More than what he and the boys had back at the motel.

"Come find me in the kitchen." Rick pretty much ordered, sauntering back out into the hallway and giving John some space.

Steam billowed around him as he washed off the grime, the water turning brown, then red, then finally clear as he took stock of the damage. A couple of bruises on his front and side from where he'd been crashed onto the floor. A graze on his cheek. A few gashes on his right arm that looked worse than what they were. Not bad altogether.

Drying off, he stepped into his jeans and t-shirt, leaving shirt and boots behind as he sought out Rick. He was in the only other place with a light on. A small kitchen, as promised, with a tiny circular table. A couple of glasses and a bottle of bourbon waiting.

"Shower's free."

Rick glanced over his shoulder, he'd been looking out into his yard, arms crossed, legs wide. Not relaxed yet-nowhere near.

"Help yourself." he gestured to the table, "I'll be back in a minute."

John moved aside so Rick could get by. He stank of sweat and smoke, dark curls plastered to his head. It made that spring in John's gut coil tighter. Resolving to ignore it, John picked up the glasses and the bottle, heading in search of somewhere more comfortable.

There was a sitting room. Flicking on a couple of lamps, he tried to take in the space. Pretty bare. An old TV. Comfortable looking couch. Carpet soft beneath his bare  toes. John couldn't recall the last time he'd dared to be barefoot for longer than it took to get out the shower and pull on some clothes.

The only hint of personality was the record player in the corner. Shelves crammed with vinyl. Noting that Johnny Cash was currently sitting on the turntable, John switched it on and sat down as the grimy crackle of music filled the room. John got it. Why do you need anything else when you've got good bourbon and Jonny Cash?

"Make yourself at home why don't you?" Rick invited in that damn drawl that was making John itchy.

"Sure will." John poured them both a drink and twisted round when Rick settled at the other end of the couch. He'd changed into a white t-shirt and a loose pair of sweats. When leaning over to hand over the glass, John noted that Rick's skin was still warm from the shower, a flush across his cheeks, a shade lighter than his lips.

Rick held his glass up, "To survin' one more night."

"One more night." John agreed, their glasses chinked, drink knocked back and eye contact only broken when he needed to reach for the bottle on the floor.

Rick relaxed back into his corner, eyes half closed, listening to the music. John sunk down and tried to do the same. Being with the boys all the time, the smart ass bitching, bickering, laughing didn't leave much room for thinking. Being for while. Usually he was thankful. When it was quiet all he was left with was the nightmares, memories of Mary. What their life could and should have been before the supernatural burned it all down and left them nowhere to hide.

It was different here.

"Why were you out in the forest?" John asked.

"Your blood type." he replied, peeling back his eyelids and fixing John with a disapproving glare, "Minute I said Type B your eye twitched. Figured if you weren't really FBI and were interested in this case you were bound to be the stupid type."

He was being told off, like a kid who didn't look both ways before crossing the road, "How'd you know I wasn't FBI?"

"Just could. Fed's don't come down here. Not for an animal. Made sense that you'd be one of those guys with a...special interest."

John couldn't help but smirk, raise an eyebrow, "That what you call it?"

Rick twisted round, tucked one foot beneath his thigh and sipped from his drink, a telltale glitter in his bright eyes, "Well it sure as hell ain't something you can major in."

"Sure you can. Just takes dedication."

"You dedicated?"

John glanced at the liquid in his glass, "There's no other life for me now. This is it.

"No more normal?"

"World's too dangerous for normal. Couldn't do that-couldn't settle knowing that innocent people were dying and I could stop it."

"I get that." Rick nodded sharply in agreement, "Damn do I get that."

John finished his drink, heat buzzing beneath his skin, "That why you joined the Sheriff's Office?"

"I'm not made for much else." Rick shrugged, "Doesn' cross my mind that I could have had another life. I like it here. Want to see where it takes me."

Quiet settled again, and Folsom Prison Blues swelled into the space instead. Rick dropped his glass on the floor, stood up, stretched. John didn't look away from the display. His blood was still running high from the kill earlier. One appetite might have been satisfied. The other had been neglected since that waitress back in Oklahoma.

Rick caught his eye. Then reacted. Gracefully dropping to his knees between John's open thighs. Didn't bother with questions. So certain of himself. Wrapping those damn lips around John's cock, which had been semi hard almost nonstop since their encounter two days before. It was the most thorough working over he'd ever received. Fast, a little rough, his balls massaged and pulled in one hand while Rick's tongue worked out those nerve endings that made him shudder with pleasure. Unable  to speak, John's fingers gripped the arm of the couch as he came with a groan, louder and longer than he had for a long, long time.

Settling back on his haunches, Rick rubbed the back of his on his lips, gaze hot, "You good?"

"Get the fuck up here." John growled, grasping Rick's wrist and pulling him up onto his lap so he could sample those lips for himself. Spunk, whiskey and bristling stubble. Rick's slim body fitting differently in his arms. Restrained strength and snake hips that wouldn't stay still no matter how firm he held them.

When he felt John's hard on against his ass Rick groaned, "You ain't leaving here without fucking me with that thing."

"Not gonna be problem."

Gripping Rick's thighs, John stood up and headed through to the dark hallway. The kid was light. They had to stop twice so John could shove Rick against the wall, distracted and annoyed at the shameless rutting against his cock. Turns out the rough treatment only made him retaliate worse. Leg's tight round John's waist, a tongue working up the sensitive flesh behind his ear. It took a sharp bite to the neck to make Rick settle down enough to direct John to the bedroom.

Once he'd been dropped, Rick tore off his clothes and had hold of John in seconds. Throwing him on  his back in a roll so neat that John made a note to ask the technique later. When there wasn't a smoking hot twenty something leaning over him for lube and a condom, the dim glow from the nearby lamp settling shadows into every sharp plane of muscle.

Running his hands up Rick's hard thighs, John was aware that this might have been the first time he'd ever actually admired a cock. He wanted to draw it into his mouth and taste it, pull Rick down just as hard and fast as he was going.

"If I were you, I'd hold on for the ride." Rick intimated in a low voice, as he lifted up and slid down on John's cock in one smooth move.

"Fuck!" he shouted, couldn't help it, his brain felt as squeezed as his cock, "I'm no expert but I thought  a little more work was supposed to go into that!"

Rick's blue eyes pinned him down as his hips shifted, getting used to John shoved up so deep, "Thought I'd save us both some time."

John's dark eyes narrowed, only to fly open again when Rick dropped up, then back down. It took a couple of minutes longer than it ordinarily would for the meaning of that to come together.

"The shower-you got prepped in the fucking shower!"

Smirking, Rick leant over so their lips could meet, "You seriously thought this was gonna go any other way?"

John dragged him into a kiss, hands slipping up behind Rick's back and pulling them tight together, "You're unbelievable."

"We're only just gettin' started." he pushed John back down onto the bed and it became clear that anything else up to this point had been a total tease.

John had been ridden plenty of times, but only ever women. High breasts, enticing curves and high, breathless moans. Rick was a different animal altogether. It was becoming pretty clear that he liked to be in control, all sharp hips and coiled power, placing his hands behind him for leverage and slamming down hard to get what he wanted.

The bed was slamming hard against the wall and having given up on being much practical use John threw his hands up and gripped onto the headboard, distantly aware that the noises being torn from his throat were utterly shameless and completely raw.

Unsure how much more of this blinding, pulsing pleasure he could take John planted his feet on the bed. Thrusting up as Rick ground violently down, golden southern skin slick with sweat and flushed like high noon.

"Fuck!" Rick tossed his head back, arching as he came, come shooting all over John's chest, the flexing muscles in his ass triggering the single most challenging orgasm of John's life. He pretty much blacked out for a second. Coming round to Rick slumped against his side, still breathing heavily, damp curls falling over his eyes.

"Jesus. You're like something from a fucking porno." John's voice sounded rough.

Rick smirked, "I'll take that as the compliment it's clearly intended to be."

John groaned and rolled onto his side, tucking his lips beneath Rick's chin and biting his throat, "I want to lick your voice. It's been driving me crazy." Rick laughed and the vibration against his tongue sent shivers of fresh hot pleasure rippling back through his body, "Dammit Grimes."

Rick pulled John up for a kiss, slower, just licking a little into each other's mouths, "So. You gonna tell me your real name, agent?"

"John Winchester." the kid had saved  his life, it was the least he could do.

"Well, John Winchester." he smiled, a sharp gleam in his eye as his hand trailed down John's strong back, "Do you want me to tell you about the vampire nest one town over before or after you suck my cock?"

John narrowed his eyes, bit Rick's earlobe, "Like that's even a question worth asking."


	4. Chapter 4

Next morning, Sam and Dean were woken up and led by Carl to an old canteen where everyone was eating breakfast, counting supplies or cleaning their weapons by turns. The routine, broken apart as it was by bursts of laughter, chatter and the occasional gurgle from Rick's baby girl was both familiar and comforting to them both. It was how they'd grown up after all.

"That is a hot gun." Dean whistled, his eyes taking in the Python that Rick was loading, his steaming hot oatmeal sitting just to the side. 

Rick glanced up at him, his blue eyes clearer in the soft morning sunlight, "Gift from John."

"You're kidding." Dean muttered, slipping into the bench opposite while Sammy slipped off to get them both something to eat from the kitchen.

"Nope. " he snapped the barrel shut and fixed it once more to the belt at his hip, "I take it you boys have got transport?"

"Hidden about a mile away." Dean replied, "We'll drive back this morning, make sure they haven't started anything yet."

"You nearby?"

"You expect me to answer that?"

Rick smiled, "Not at all."

Sam returned with food and settled in next to Dean, nodded to Rick, "You just gonna let us go? No conditions?"

"That depends. What're you huntin' for?" he pulled over his breakfast and took a bite.

"A way to fix things." Sam replied.

"Then I want in."

Dean glanced at Sam, "Why?"

"Because it's only a matter of time." Rick said in a low voice, his eyes resting briefly on Daryl as chatted to Beth across the room, "Walkers are too many and we're running outta humans. There ain't no place we can lay down and make some roots without some asshole wantin' to take it for himself."

Sam surveyed the people in the room, attentive to what was happening but not intervening. Getting on with what needed to be done for the day. Trusting Rick to make the correct call. 

"The way I see it, we're runnin' outta options. Our last shot at a cure was taken by someone who had turned on humanity so much he wanted to watch us all burn out of spite alone." he put the bowl aside.

"Humans man." Dean shook his head sympathetically.

Rick gave him a shrewd look, "Allies are the next step. Building up a network of groups we can trust, start makin' some rules, stoppin' the dickheads that have used the end of the world as an excuse to torture, rape and take what the hell they want from the few of us that are left."

"How you planning to enforce that Sheriff?" Dean asked.

"By bein' what's needed." he replied, making no claims to moral superiority, "I want my kids to grow up. I ain't stupid enough to think that they can ever be properly safe, that ain't the way things go, but I want them better. An' you boys are gonna help me with that."

Sam shoved his bowl aside, "Terms?"

"You don't look at my people the wrong way I don't shoot you." he replied, sitting back up, "And I expect you to keep to the same."

"This isn't our decision alone. We need to clear it with our people." Dean stated, unsure how the group back home would take to working with others. Especially a bunch as hardened as this one. Rick was the only one they were ever going to listen to and it was pretty obvious he was used to getting his way.

"Take winter to think it over." Rick recommended, "That should give y'all enough time to convince them to see things my way."

"All winter? Not in much of a rush?" Dean grumbled.

"Winter's dangerous." Rick said sharply, "Not the time to be taking risks."

"And the journal?" Sam questioned.

"I'll be keeping hold of that." he smiled, "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some things I need to see to." and he strode away. Dean ducked his head down and glanced over his shoulder. Rick went. The other guy followed. The girl he'd been talking to blinked in surprise, then glared at his back. Interesting.

"Nice work." a big guy with ginger hair and bulging muscles slipped in opposite, "Using the flares to draw our attention. Could sure do with that kind of equipment. Where'd you find it? I'm Abe by the way." he held out a hand that they took in turn. 

"Dean-this is Sam." he put the empty bowl aside, "And I'm afraid that's gonna have to remain trade secret."

"Damn it." he settled back and grinned, he was a lot friendlier than Rick, "Thought it wouldn't hurt to ask."

"No worries man. You gotta try-right Sammy."

"Sure Dean."

"So who trained you?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Just an observation. I don't think you're like me-military man. Law enforcement like Rick. Criminal like Daryl." his legs were spread wide, body language open, expression curious but not suspicious, "But getting in like that took some skill-some practice."

"Dad was in the military." Dean replied, irritated at the prying, "Some things rubbed off."

"You guys finished?" Carol asked, fixing a knife to her thigh.

Sam took one final bite of food, nodded and Dean stood up. They were escorted back through the building. Their bags and weapons were sitting on a table near the door. It was an unexpected sign of good faith. 

"How do we get in touch with you?" Dean asked, checking his ammo while Sam scanned the contents of the backpacks. He was unhappy about leaving one of their best leads behind, "If something goes down during winter. I don't want you guys vanishing with our stuff."

"Rick packed a radio with a note on the frequency. If we call we expect you to answer."

"That work the other way too?" Sam questioned. 

"Yeah." she replied, "It does." her eyes scanned them both, cool and distant, before nodding once. As though she'd come to an agreement with herself. Opening the door, she led them to the gate. 

"Clear!" a woman called from above them, a shout echoed by two other voices. 

"Be safe boys." Carol said, with the ghost of a smile, "Don't hesitate to call."

"No problem." Dean clutched his knife.

"Keep that baby safe." Sam said, his lips straight, expression serious.

"Always do." Carol answered, meeting his gaze head on. She opened the gate just enough. The Winchester's glanced at each other once, and they were gone. Back out into the wilderness.

\--

The drive back to the bunker was restless. They encountered a handful of Walkers on the way back to the car-not the Impala, Baby was too noisy for this fucked up world. They were stuck in a goddamn Ford Focus. 

They sky remained mockingly blue and bright despite the ruin of a world smouldering beneath it, while Sam toyed with the radio Rick had given them, tapping it against his bottom lip, curious about the world he wanted to start carving out. There was no infrastructure anymore. Only the most basic communications, and the power running those was going to fade out soon. It was amazing the automated systems had lasted this long. 

There was no one to write the rules. No one to uphold them. Not enough people around to drag out what was left of the U.S's natural resources. No one to sell them to even if they did. It's not like money meant anything anymore. 

"You thinkin' about that guy?" Dean asked, sick of the silence. Driving wasn't the same when he couldn't blast out Led Zeppelin.

"A little. More about what he said-if it could work or not."

"You think it could?"

Sam shrugged, "I don't know. I mean-we didn't just get the world we used to live in. It didn't start with complex international economies, half a dozen law enforcement agencies in the US alone and a bunch of old guys sitting around adding clauses to laws only lawyers would understand."

"The Wild West." Dean smirked.

"Yeah the Wild West."

"And we've just met our very own Sheriff." Dean grinned, only to dim a little when he looked back out into the road, "What do you think about him and dad?"

"I think that dad kept so many secrets that I'm almost relieved that this one's so harmless."

"We meet the same guy Sammy?" Dean asked in disbelief. 

"Okay, harmless might not be the right word but at least this one didn't involve a second family or a cross roads deal...or warning you to maybe kill me."

"Point." Dean agreed, he frowned out into the horizon, "Georgia man. How the hell did we miss that?"

"He didn't want us to know, I guess." Sam responded, scanning Rick's scrawl, "I don't know Dean. Let's just let everyone know what happened, do some research and sit out the winter."

"Good a plan as any I suppose." Dean grumbled, "Never thought I'd miss vampires."

"There are plenty of ways to keep busy Dean." Sam's smile widened into a smirk and Dean tried to ignore it but he couldn't. No way in hell he could turn down unlimited Sammy time.

\--

Daryl's face was flushed and he was breathing hard. He had to stop Rick pouncing on him like this. It was getting out of control. He was supposed to be finishing up his watch at the guard tower and Rick was supposed to be taking over. 

Being bent over the back of a rangy couch, exposed to the biting Autumn air as Rick kept up a ruthless pounding to his ass wasn't how it was meant to go. 

Gripping on as hard as he could, he flexed his muscles, Rick bit the back of his neck and they both came within seconds of one another. Slouching over the back of the couch, Daryl's eyes slipped closed briefly as the pleasure continued to roil through his system. 

"Met teenage boys with lower sex drives than you." Daryl grumbled, letting Rick pull his jeans back up.

"When you say no and mean it, then I'll think about takin' what you say seriously." Rick responded, pulling Daryl round into a kiss, arms slipping possessively around his waist, "Wanna tell me what Beth had to say to you this morning?"

"You wanna piss on me and get it over with?" Daryl responded, pale blue eyes glinting with amusement.

"Didn' know that was on the table." Rick responded in a low voice, a stark wind rustling his hair.

"It ain't." Daryl rested his lips against Rick's throbbing artery wondering if he could do it. Dig his teeth in the flesh and tear it away. 

A hand slipped up the back of his head and pulled him back up, "You should go get some sleep."

"Now you've wore me out?"

"Damn right." he smiled and it was playful and warm.

Every now and then there were these glimpses. Of the man Rick was at the beginning. Kind, honourable. With the fire in his veins tempered back into warmth and openness instead of the searing heat it had become. Daryl would be lyin' if he said it didn't get to him. Made him hope that what they were doin' had something to do with it. 

"When we next gonna get some time?" Daryl let his hands slide along Rick's lean back, resting on the belt on his hips.

"Carol did the roster. I reckon she's tryin' to keep us away from each other."

"She's seen the bruises."

Rick considered this for a moment, rested his lips against Daryl's, just breathing, warmth against warmth, before pressing them together in a kiss, "Do we need to explain it?"

"You reckon you can?" Daryl challenged, "'Cos I sure can't."

He made a thoughtful noise, "Maybe. We tell Carol, we tell everyone."

"Everyone already knows."

"Nah, everyone speculates." Rick responded, smirking a little, before asking a little more seriously, "You think it would change anythin'?"

"Yes. No. A little of both?" Daryl replied thoughtfully, leaning on the back of the couch and pulling Rick between his legs, "We quit bein' discreet way back."

"Allowances are made for Glenn and Maggie." his expression darkened, "Woulda been the same for Sasha and Bob."

Daryl paused, respecting the dead, before picking up their conversation, "Glenn and Maggie ain't running this thing. You are."

"Never wanted any special privileges before." Rick murmured musingly, "Not before, not after. Only now I get a pinch of jealousy that I can't have you when I want."

"Grimes you get me plenty." Daryl murmured back, tugging Rick in as close as he could get, "You're just gettin' greedy."

"Maybe." Rick leant in for another kiss, paused, and Daryl felt the moment duty settled back onto his shoulders, "Now seriously. Get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow...at some point."

"Sure." Daryl pulled up straight and pulled a face at the come sticking to his ass cheeks, "Need a goddamn wash anyway." and he slipped away, heading back into the confines of the fort thinking of a warm blanket that was missing a warm body. 

\--

"Hey honey's we're home!" Dean called as he canted down the steps leading into the bunker, Sam slamming the door tight behind them. 

"About goddamn time!" Jody strode out from the library with a shotgun in her arms, "We were just about to come get you!" she smacked Dean hard on the arm, "You fuckin' idiots!"

"Hey! Were alive. Unhurt. What you got to complain about?"

"The worry." Garth appeared at her shoulder and immediately immersed Dean in one of his unnecessarily lengthy hugs, "Just pleased you're both alive man." he patted Dean on the neck, before wrapping his freakishly long arms around Sam.

"What happened?" Jody demanded. 

"Long story." Sam replied, untangling from Garth before striding through to the library, glancing briefly at Amelia who was leaning over a huge book with a notepad at her elbow. They nodded briefly in acknowledgment of one another and he carried on going until he reached the room he shared with Dean. 

They didn't even bother with the facade of being just brothers anymore. It had been stress enough when they were living at the edges of the real world. Keeping up appearances with no one left to convince just seemed stupid. Anyone that came to them for help had two choices. Put up or shut up. Otherwise they became Walker chow, with only a fraction of time to consider their life choices before being reluctantly saved and sent on their way. 

Dropping the bag on the table, he stripped off his clothes and grabbed a towel. He'd hardly had time to stretch his muscles before he felt hands running along his back, resting on his shoulders, lips against his neck. 

"Feel good Sammy?" Dean growled against his skin.

"You've no idea." Sam groaned, twisting round and tugging him into a fierce kiss, "Fuck the shower Dean." he grasped Dean's strong ass cheeks, hot water running between them, "Let's go straight to bed."

"Gotta debrief."

"Debrief can wait." reaching round with eyes closed, he switched off the shower and started walking Dean backwards. There were a couple of stumbles before towels were grabbed and loosely slung around their hips, followed by a poor attempt at reaching their room without incident. 

Too busy kissing and groping to pay attention to their surroundings, they were both alarmed to run into an innocent, "Shit! Ben-sorry!" Dean cried as they collided together. 

Ben looked suitably disgusted, "Watch where you're going! Jesus-fucking-Christ!" his t-shirt was damp from where Dean had inadvertently been pressed up against him during Sam's advance.

"Watch that mouth." Dean pointed at him, aware that maintaining authority while essentially naked with one's own brother licking the water pooled at his collarbone was pretty much impossible. 

It was the trying that counted. 

"Watch where you're going!" Ben cried, dark eyes unable to settle on what was in front of him. 

"Later Dean." Sam growled into his ear, brushing his hard on against the crack in Dean's ass and effectively shredding the last of his self control.

"Later Ben!" Dean echoed, inching around him, "We will talk about this-the swearing-later! I promise."

Getting impatient, Sam heaved him off the floor, leaving Dean to struggle over one shoulder and quickly covering the rest of the distance, immune to the numerous and inventive array of curses levelled at his head. 

Towel torn off, body roughly deposited on the sheets, Dean hardly had time to take a breath before his cock was swallowed by Sammy in one smooth move.

"Fuck! Sammy!" it was barely a gasp, his heart was pounding too hard, still too hot and wet from the shower to take it all on board, "I hate you!"

"Shut up and get the lube or I'm doing you raw." was all Sam has to say, before going back to what he was doing. Biting his lip, Dean reached up under the pillow, grasped the bottle and threw it at Sam's bobbing head. He still managed to capture it in the hand not wrapped at the base of Dean's cock. Fucking hunter reflexes. 

Sam paused and looked up, deep brown hair falling into his eyes, "Strike two."

Dean felt a sudden and completely unfair surge of lust, "Two?" he panted, "I gotta try to rile you up these days Sammy?"

"You want the punishment, you gotta earn it." Sam suddenly slipped one finger roughly up his ass and the rush of pain alongside the pleasure pushed Dean's spine up off the bed. 

It all got a bit out of control after that. Dean didn't even try to put up a fight when his legs were pulled up over Sam's broad shoulders. As Sam's massive cock forced its way up inside, hitting him hard and intense, the pain and the pleasure twisting up together until he was a gibbering mass of need and lust and love so essential, so soul deep it overwhelmed him each and every time. 

That after everything that had happened. All the shit they'd said and done to each other. He still got this. Still got Sam taking him like he owned him. Like he was daring anyone else to try it again. To come between them. 

"God-Sammy-baby boy-" it was all he could utter before he came suddenly and ruthlessly, satisfied when Sammy came straight after, filling him to the goddamn brim with come. 

Pulling out, breathing hard, Sam tugged Dean over into a sweaty hug. Tan skin flushed gold and pink, Dean pressed his lips against the nearest pec and sighed, "Tired now."

"Debrief later." Sam yawned.

"Debrief later." Dean agreed, dragging the rucked up blanket over them both and settling into straight into a deep sleep.

\--  
They rested a few hours. Dean woke up first, satisfactorily sore, hungry and still dirtier than he planned on being for much longer. Shoving Sam awake, because no way was he explaining what happened back at the fort on his own, they actually managed to get up and clean this time with the minimum amount of groping. 

By the time they were heading back to clarity, it was dinner time. Everyone was crowded in the library, bowls of soup and homemade bread settled in amongst ancient texts. How they'd wound up with both ex's plus kid (Amelia, Lisa and Ben), a vampire honey trap (Alex), a research geek with his insane bodyguard (Aaron and Golem) alongside a werewolf (Garth) a less crazy Sheriff (Jody) and a tech mastermind without tech (Charlie) was a question that troubled them both on a recurring basis.

"You done?" Amelia asked, tearing up a piece of bread and dunking it in the soup.

"So what happened?" Garth asked, "You find it?"

"Yeah, then we lost it." Dean replied.

"Temporarily." Sam added.

"With conditions." 

"You ran into survivors?" Charlie asked, looking curious and a little worried, "What happened?"

"Tied us up, took our stuff, left us with limited options. The usual." Dean shrugged, helping himself to a bowl of soup from the pot in the centre.

"Didn't kill you though." Lisa noted.

"Funny things happen when you encounter a crazy guy that was screwing your dad sixteen years ago." Dean responded, settling down next to Sammy. 

"They don't shoot you." Sam observed, pausing thoughtfully as he dipped the bread in his soup, "Which is rare. Dad had a thing for bad girls-a couple of them tried to hold us at gunpoint. You remember that red head back in Tuslaw?"

"Epic rack." Dean smirked in appreciation, then frowned, "Only a few years older than me."

"Thought Dad was an easy mark. Man we showed her." he grinned, exchanging an appreciative glance with Dean briefly, before becoming troubled again, "He was pretty ruthless about it."

"She pointed a gun in your face Sammy. Ain't no way Dad would let her get away with that. Epic rack or no epic rack."

Sam hummed thoughtfully and Amelia fought hard not to roll her eyes, "Enlightening though that trip down memory lane was..."

"Yeah-we found the journal, it led us to a civil war fort where these survivors were hiding out." Sam popped some food into his mouth.

"They seemed pretty badass. This one chick had a katana. Katana! And the guy running the show was a freshly brewed bag of crazy."

"They hurt you?"Jody demanded.

"No-they kept us locked up, but we got food, bathroom breaks. They let us explain." Sam tried not to linger on the fact that it could have been different if Rick had come back in a killing mood, "I'd say we were given an ultimatum but that wouldn't be true."

"What do they want?" Charlie frowned.

"In on the hunt." Dean responded, scooping up some soup. God he was sick of soup. 

"That a good idea?" Lisa leaned forward, looking worried, "We don't know anything about these people. And you said they were badass-means they've been out there a long time. They must be dangerous."

"And they are." Sam didn't feel the need to sugarcoat it, "Of course they are. Smart too. We broke in and they trapped us..." he looked sidelong at Dean who seemed to agree, "But they've got a baby-and a kid, only a little younger than Ben."

"Plus this guy...he wants to carve something out of the wreckage." Dean was still getting his head around that one, "If this doesn't work, we might actually have some allies and I think that might be worth exploring."

No one looked convinced. How could they? They hadn't talked to Rick, witnessed that resolve and determination with their own eyes. 

"We need to just keep looking." Dean pushed his bowl aside and licked his fingertips.

"We've been given until the end of Winter to make a decision." Sam shrugged, "So we got time." 

"What happens in Spring? If we decide not to work with them?" Alex questioned, honing in on the weakness in the plan because little girls trained to be bait were good at that.

"We renegotiate." Sam answered, though the thought of confronting Rick and his people clearly troubled him, "Until then we find some other leads."

Once food was finished with they settled in to find out what they'd learned in the meantime. It was slow going. For some reason expecting a bunch of civilians to have extensive knowledge of obscure dead languages was asking a lot.

Not that it mattered. All they had was time.


	5. Chapter 5

The sun was beating down by the time John pulled up. Rick was already waiting, leaning against a car from the Sheriff's office in a pair of jeans, a black t-shirt. Aviators blocking out the morning light. He didn't quite fit in with the scrubland around them. The dry heated tarmac amid the scruff of dying up shrubs.

"What time d'ya call this?" he yawned, sipping at the coffee in he was holding.

"They in there?" John questioned instead, closing the Impala's door and walking round to stand opposite.

"'Bout ten I reckon." Rick replied, "Should be bedding down about now."

John observed the building. Looked like it started off life as a warehouse, but plenty of it had been knocked down over the years leaving one square structure standing. One level. All the windows covered up, doors locked.

"You run the perimeter?"

Rick gave him a look beneath the shades, which let John know what he thought of that question, "Two doors. Padlocked from the inside. We wanna head through that one." he nodded to the nearest, "Sun'll stream in better from there."

John nodded, "Alright." he moved to the trunk of the car, "You know how to kill a vampire?"

"Can't shoot em?"

"No, barely slows them down." he revealed the armoury they carried round, pleased when Rick made an impressed noise, "Two things you can do." he handed him a set of syringes, "First is dead man's blood. It's poisonous to them." Rick observed the ten instruments filled with dark liquid, "Nearest vein you can find. Neck and arm work best-so does the thigh if you can get at it." he nodded, then stowed them in his back pocket, "Second you have to chop off their head." he pulled out his favourite machete, then let Rick pick out his own, "Only thing that keeps them down for good. It can get a little messy." 

Rick picked out a weapon, tested the heft of it, turned away to swing it once and nodded, "This'll do fine."

"Okay." John pulled down the trunk, "We need to be fast and quiet. Vampire's are quick and the situation can turn on you in a second if you aren't careful."

John's face was grave, hard lines etched into his brow as though he were used to stressing that warning. Rick made a note to ask about that later. He placed the machete and empty paper cup on top of the car, stretching out his arms over his head to loosen up his muscles. 

"You know you don't need to come with me on this right?" John said, aware of Rick's complete lack of fear, worried that it might lead to reckless decisions.

"I told you already. These things are killing people in my jurisdiction. If I can't cuff them, I can sure as hell end them." 

"You've never done this before."

"Everyone has to start somewhere." he clutched the machete in his hand and John tried not to grumble at yet another person capable of epic stubbornness hitching up in his life, "Come on John. Let's get this over with."

"Okay, fine, but you do as I say." he warned, "I'll be pissed off if you get yourself killed."

There was a fast quirk of the lips, but it didn't last long. Rick was falling into a role. They had a job to do. Deciding not to waste much more time, they strode over to the building. Rick leant against the door, so John could reach around with a bolt cutter and get rid of the padlock.

Once that was done, they swung it wide open. It opened into what probably used to be some kind of reception area. There was one vampire asleep on an ancient couch. John strode forward, and beheaded the prone figure in one strong, quiet move. Once Rick was at his elbow, they crept through the nearest hallway, checking each room, unsurprised to find the rest of the nest piled together in the large storage space that probably used to back onto the rest of the warehouses.

There were only a handful of windows but they were high up and blacked out. Ruling that out, John took in the rest of the scene. Nine, some half naked, all wrapped up together on a series of mattresses with twisted up sheets. Even the dead couldn't deal with the Georgia heat. 

John gestured with his syringe. Subdue first, kill after. Rick nodded. Moving as quietly as possible, they managed to take out half before it all went to hell. A girl twitched. Eyes flew open and she was screaming before John could shut her up.

The ones that could move, jumped up and turned on them in a fury of sharp teeth and grasping hands. Giving up on strategy, John fell back on training and anger to keep going. He got thrown around, a couple of assholes trying to pin him down and rip out his throat when there was a shout. Rick swung his machete, took out one and moved fast to cover the distance and shove a syringe into the neck of one guy holding John before he was flung across the room by the other. 

Turns out that only made Rick more angry. Getting up off the floor, he came back into the fight with even more calculated ferocity than before. John finished off the two that came for him, and found himself watching in a little bit of awe as Rick taunted and ruthlessly killed the ones that remained. They were strong but they were stupid, falling for the feints. A girl tried to grasp him, only for that arm to be chopped off with the head a swipe later. The final vampire seemed to suddenly realise they were losing and started to back up.

"Come on man! You don't need to do this-I'll leave, won't ever come here again." his arms were held up defensively as Rick advanced at a measured pace, blue eyes utterly cold, body a tense line, machete held in a comfortable grip, "I promise-you don't need to kill me! I could help you-you're a hunter right-there's stuff I could tell you about-" 

"Shut the fuck up." Rick suddenly lunged, tugging the vampire forward, kneeing it hard in the gut so it had to bend over, head hitting the floor a moment later. 

John simply watched as Rick systematically beheaded the one's they'd weakened with dead man's blood at the start of the raid. This was his town after all. Seemed like the right thing to do.

Once it was over and there were none left, Rick fell still. His curly hair was dank from sweat and he was splattered with dirt and blood. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, taking in the bodies littering the small space with an intense gaze. It was a good look on him. 

John moved, just a step, and Rick's head snapped round. The machete hit the ground with a metallic clatter and he strode towards John, hopping up into his arms and claiming his mouth in a kiss John couldn't have denied even if he wanted to. They stumbled back to a wall, John dropped him and spun Rick around. Tearing down his jeans, John slicked up his fingers with spit before shoving them up Rick's ass. 

"Fuck!" Rick tried to find purchase against the wall, hands grasping up as his spine arched, "Come on John!"

John surged forward and kissed him, biting at the flesh of his neck before brutally twisting his fingers resulting in another unacceptable groan, "Ready for another?"

"I'm always ready." Rick's head fell forward and pushed back hard against John, "More-now-come on!"

Growling and so hard he could hardly think straight, John undid his belt, dropped the his jeans round his ankles forced his way in. Their joint shout echoing in the empty space. Rick was so fucking tight, and nowhere near slick enough. John had no idea how Rick could be getting pleasure out of this but he was. Must have been if the noises were anything to go by. 

John shoved up the back of Rick's t-shirt so he could run his hand up across the smooth, damp skin. Admiring the curve of his spine, the open stance of his legs as he let John take him with the same violence they'd used to kill a whole nest of vampires. 

The climax came sudden and hard. John forced Rick up against the wall, gripped his cock and shouted out Rick clenched around him, before he shot against the dirty wall. Pulling in air hard, John collapsed over Rick, their arms twisted up against the wall. Comfortable and humming with pleasure, Rick pulled his head up reluctantly and groaned when he caught the time on John's watch. 

"Goddammit." he elbowed John in the side so he had no choice but to pull out. They kind of straightened up their clothes and Rick strode back outside to the Sheriff's car with John a little behind.

"You got somewhere you need to be?" John demanded, there were a lot of bodies to clean up.

"Yeah I got work." Rick pulled off his t-shirt and doused it in water, wiping it over his face and neck.

"You mean you weren't coming off shift when you got here?"

"No-thought we could take care of it quickly." he flashed a smile, "And we did."

John's nerves were still stinging with adrenaline and arousal, he'd been hoping for a replay of the last hunt, "So you're gonna leave me with the mess?"

"Yeah-sorry 'bout that." he did seem genuinely sorry, "But we can't have people askin' questions. I've never been late for a shift since I started. It'd look suspicious."

John grudgingly accepted the point, "Alright." but he was still monumentally pissed off. It was stupid. He was used to doing this alone. Even with the boys he daren't share responsibility. Dean would probably be one of the best in a few years. Sam too, if he could stop asking questions for long enough. Trusted the instincts John had been trying to hardwire for years.

Sensing the fall of a dark mood, Rick stepped into John's space, slipped bare arms around his waist, "I'll buy you a drink later."

"What sort of a drink?" he asked suspiciously, annoyed at how quickly his body reacted to feeling Rick pressed up against him. 

"There's a bar in town. Nothin' special. I gotta day off tomorrow so we can get hammered and celebrate this morning's win."

John pushed him up against the car, "What's the name of the bar?"

"Duke's."

One of John's hands was settled at nape of Rick's neck, the other at the base of his spine, just above the curve of his ass, "Alright. I'll be there at eight."

Rick grinned, then kissed him, "Great." he slipped out of John's arms and got in the car, pulling a t-shirt on from a pile in the passenger seat, "See you later."

John watched him drive away and waited a little, until he felt calm again. Before the arduous task of dealing with yet more bodies. 

\-- 

Sam was at school and Dean was sitting on a bed watching TV in his room when he made it back to the motel around lunch time. 

"Good hunt?" Dean asked, not looking up from the screen. 

"Yeah-the lead was good. A nest of vamps." he chucked the keys on the table and stretched out his sore muscles. 

"You take them all out on your own?" Dean demanded, green eyes flashing, "You shoulda called."

"It was fine. They were sleeping." he stretched out his arms, the same way Rick did and groaned in relief when he felt his spine crack, "Christ that's been there for five years at least."

Dean was eyeing him suspiciously, "If you weren't covered in blood, I could swear you just got laid." John barked out a laugh, he couldn't help it and Dean's mouth opened, "No way! No way you got laid this morning!"

"I didn't!" he held up his hands in a gesture of innocence, "I just killed some vamps and burnt up the bodies. Normal day at the office."

"Only time you've ever been in an office is on a hunt." Dean muttered, before settling back down to watch TV, "That mean we'll be moving on when Sammy's back from school?"

John had been turning this one over since the swamp monster last week, "Yeah-about that-I was thinking we could stay here awhile." 

"You wanna stay in Georgia?" Dean asked in disbelief, "It's hot as hell already and summer's hardly started." 

"Good a place as any." John shrugged, "It's been years since we took a break. It's small. We could rent a house, try earning some money. Get our bearings."

Dean chewed his lip thoughtfully, "Sammy would like that."

"Good." John nodded, "Then we'll stay. I'll go into town later and try to find a house...after I've had a shower and a nap. I'm getting too old to be carrying around dead bodies." he pulled out his wallet and threw it at Dean, "Go get us some lunch. "

"Anything you want?" Dean flicked through the various cards, before grabbing some cash.

"Don't care. Something filling, and coffee." he strode through to the bathroom and was under the lukewarm water when the door shut. 

He was dirty all over, sweaty and bloody but only a little bruised. After he washed off the shower gel, John leant back against the tile and closed his eyes. It was easier to recall Rick a few hours ago as he fought off the vamps that way. So ruthless. He was a natural hunter. Strong, focussed, fearless. 

John's cock started to harden again and he didn't even try to deny himself this time. Just let the memory of Rick's body pull him down into a quick dirty climax. By the time Dean came back with food John was passed out on the bed, tired and only vaguely dissatisfied.

\--

Rick was already there by the time John arrived, sitting in a booth with another couple of people. Their eyes caught as John headed to the bar. He even managed to smile. 

John was actually in a good mood as he ordered a whiskey and a chaser for them both. Sammy's smile when he'd told him they'd been staying for awhile had been blinding. Hazel eyes bright and warm, dimples at full power. It had been a long time since John had earned a smile like that and he was ashamed at much it made him cringe with joy.

No wonder Dean put so much energy into making Sammy happy. Expressions like that were addictive. 

"I thought you were some sort of hotshot FBI agent." some guy accused as he pulled into the booth beside Rick.

John stared at him, looked sidelong at Rick, "You going to introduce us?"

"John, this asshole is Shane, the lovely lady to his right is Lori. Shane, Lori, this is John."

Shane was handsome in a meathead kind of way. Big arms, broad shoulders, sneering face. Lori was just plain beautiful. Dark eyes, dark hair, friendly smile.

"We were at high school together." Rick answered the question before he could ask, "Shane works with me down at the station."

"And you were there last week askin' questions." he leant forward, a little too aggressive. Clearly assuming he'd picked up on something that Rick might have missed. Judging by the wry look on Lori's face she thought that was probably unlikely.

"My last job. I handed in my notice a couple of months ago." he slipped the shot and beer towards Rick.

"And you decided to stay around here?" Shane demanded.

"Yeah-thought it might be nice for me and my boys to settle for awhile." he held his shot up to Rick and they chinked together, sure his meaning wasn't going unheard, "Georgia's a good a place as any."

"To Georgia." Rick toasted and they knocked back the shot. 

"Boys?" Lori asked, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the dirty table.

"Yeah-two. Sammy's sixteen. Dean's twenty."

"What happened to their mother?"

John knocked back some beer, "Mary died when Sammy was still a baby. I've been taking care of them the best I can ever since."

"Musta been hard with your job-travelling round the country all the time." she said sympathetically. He was getting a few signals here already. Talking about the boys always had this effect. 

"It was-is." he shrugged, "But that's the hand we got dealt."

Rick sipped from his beer, "You play pool?"

"Of course I play pool. You challenging?"

Those lips slipped into a grin, "Only a challenge if you reckon you can win."

John smiled back and slipped out from the table, leading the way over to the pool table. Rock music was pouring from the jukebox, and the bar was getting busier. Laughter and chatter. They grabbed a cue each and started playing. Pretty quickly John came to the conclusion that he was going to have to stop making assumptions about Rick Grimes.

Fifth game in he realised he was being hustled. 

Rick had knocked back the requisite four shots per lost game but now John was suddenly loosing. First one game, then another, then another. By the time they'd hit the tenth damn round John's concentration was waning and Rick was only getting better.

"The last person to beat me was Dean." John muttered irritably, leaning against his cue and knocking back the latest losers shot and trying to be discreet about admiring Rick's ass as he leant over the table to set up the next game. This was a small town and there were a lot of red necks around. 

"You're a sore loser John. Anyone ever tell you that?" Rick asked, throwing a grin over his shoulder. 

"Anyone ever tell you you're a smug son of bitch?" John returned, eyebrow raised. 

Rick smirked, "Last game. You wanna up the stakes?"

"Depends on what you want to play for." he replied as Rick slunk a little closer, within touching distance. 

Rick sipped from his bottle, lips, tongue lingering around the stem as he murmured in a low voice, "I win, I get to blow you in the bathroom."

Trying to not look too interested, John scanned the bar instead, "And if I win?"

"You get to fuck me over the hood of that hot fucking car you drive."

John noticed Shane and Lori at the opposite side of the table and tried to keep his expression neutral, despite the fact he could feel his cock throbbing between his legs, "If I lose, we're doing that anyway." 

Rick only smirked before swinging round to kick off their last game. John was beaten quicker and more efficiently than any other round so far, but he was drunk and horny and couldn't care less. Leaving Rick chatting to Shane and Lori, he headed to the bathroom. Took a piss because he actually needed to go. Seconds later Rick slipped through the door and hauled him through to the empty stall, wearing a similar expression to when he'd wiped out the nest that morning. 

John clicked the lock shut and leant back against the door as Rick dropped down onto his knees and delivered another blowjob that made him stupid with lust. He was loose and thrumming with pleasure, on the verge of coming between those beautiful red lips when he felt a mysteriously slicked up finger slip between his ass cheeks. 

No one had ever done something like that to him before and he was suitably shocked. It felt invasive and uncomfortable. He was on the verge of pulling away but Rick's fingers gripped his hip hard and he looked up at John beneath dark lashes. A simple enough request to trust him to do it right and against his better judgement John tried. Paid more attention to the tongue slipping up the base of his cock, the heat of Rick's mouth until that finger found what it was looking for and a rush of unexpected pleasure from one spot hit another, making him powerless to prevent climax.

Choking on air to keep his voice down, he watched as Rick finished himself off, forehead resting against John's thigh. When he was done John pulled him up off the floor, "I'm not sure this is any way for a deputy to behave."

Rick smirked and leant over to kiss him, thrusting his tongue into John's mouth and shocking him for the second time in as many minutes as a salty substance was deposited down his throat. Coughing as Rick huffed out a laugh against his shoulder John shoved him, "You're an asshole."

"Like you've never tried your own come." Rick muttered, quickly pressing another kiss against the corner of John's lips, "Come on. We're just getting started."

They left the bathroom together. Shane looked suspicious and pissed off, Lori a little disappointed. Nevertheless they shared another round of drinks, because John suspected Rick enjoyed making Shane a little crazy, before making some transparent excuse and heading back to Rick's.

Now they had some time to enjoy themselves, John was sure as hell going to make the most of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone's whose read, enjoyed and bookmarked so far! 
> 
> I'm having way too much fun writing this story and linking these worlds together-I had literally no idea until I started typing how much synergy there was between The Walking Dead and Supernatural. Fingers crossed it keeps holding together!


	6. Chapter 6

Dean was sitting at a desk in the library, systematically throwing balled up notes of paper into a nearby trash can. Amelia was trying her hardest to concentrate, making another attempt at translating a book written in a derivation of Sanskrit so rare, it had taken Sam the best part of a week to develop a cipher for her to use. Each time another ball of paper thudded into the already building pile she could feel the twitch in her right eye getting worse. 

When she lost her place on the same paragraph she'd been reading for almost an hour, her patience snapped. 

"Dammit Dean!" she flattened her hands hard on the table, "If you aren't going to work could you please find something else to do!"

He raised his eyebrows at her, before his expression slipped into something bordering on petulance, "Can't. Sammy's banned me."

Amelia glared at him, "Banned you from what?"

"Everything!" he threw his arms up in the air, "Can't practice in the range because it wastes ammo. Can't play with Baby because it uses fuel. Can't go kill things because it's the end of the world." he leant in for emphasis, "I'm so goddamn bored!"

"I can't believe that this isn't enough drama for you." 

"Sitting around dealing with this crap was always Sammy's thing." he gestured dismissively to the books. 

"That's such bullshit." Amelia muttered, pulling her notes over and making yet another attempt at translating these crazy scrawls.

"What's bullshit?" he demanded.

"You pretending that Sam's better at this stuff, when it's patently untrue." she said calmly, "You can both read the same amount of languages, pretty effortlessly, actually. You just say Sam's better because it means you get to do more of what you enjoy."

"Alright." he crossed his arms and swung round, resting his feet up on the table, "Who said you got to be perceptive all of a sudden?"

Amelia rolled her eyes and pulled over a bottle of water, "Sam isn't some geek boy like you keep telling everyone. I've seen him get as hot over guns as you do. Given the choice between trawling through these books or being outside killing something it's pretty obvious which one he'd choose."

Dean looked at her few a beats longer than he needed to. She held his gaze steadily but there was a flush gradually building on her cheeks that surprised him. Eyes narrowing, Dean leant over and said quietly, because you never knew who could be listening in this place, "He manhandle you?"

Her eyes widened and the flush deepened, "Dean!"

He smirked, "He totally did."

"Why do you even want to know!?"

Dean met her eye and kept his gravelly voice level and low, "Because I keep thinking I'm going to find something about Sammy that doesn't make me hot and so far it ain't happened."

Amelia could feel the heat on her skin as she asked carefully, "You could get off on imagining us together?"

His full lips quirked into a smile, "I can get off thinking that whatever he was doing to you was meant for me."

Amelia's eyes widened, "You're such an asshole!" she grabbed her bottle and threw it hard at his face before storming away. Colliding with Sam who caught her round the waist before she wound up on the floor.

"Woah woah woah!" he caught sight of the glassy tears in her eyes, the thunderous expression, "Amelia-you okay?" 

"Your brother is such a dick!"

Sam frowned, "What did he say?"

She tore out of his arms, "Ask him! And make sure he's out of the library in the next hour-some of us have still got some fucking work to do!" and she was gone, tearing round the corner, muttering under breath about 'Winchester assholes'. 

When Sam rounded the corner it was to encounter Dean wearing an innocent expression. He narrowed his eyes, "Don't be a dick to Amelia."

"What? We were talking!" Sam kept on walking towards him, and Dean kept on talking, "I only asked if you used to manhandle her." Sam hitched up on the table beside him, crossed his arms and Dean's attention drifted a little to the biceps that were getting so monstrous with the unnecessary extra weights training, that the sleeves on his t-shirt looked like they were on the verge of tearing.

Sam cleared his throat. Passive aggressive bitch. 

"Okay-fine-and I might have said the only reason I was interested was because I like to think that whatever you did to her," he cringed a little in anticipation, "was meant for me."

"That was cruel." he stated it baldly, "And you aren't a fucking demon anymore." it was worse than Dean thought it would be, he was actually angry, "You're bored-fine-we're all bored, under pressure and fucked off, but she's with us. You don't do that again."

"It was the truth!"

"Like that matters Dean." his eyes flicked away, the arms around his chest tightened, "All those women you screwed over the years. You think it makes it better that it was always me?"

"No." he muttered, shifting irritably in his seat.

"So don't punish her." he said coldly, "I don't punish Lisa and Ben for being your apple pie when I was in the Cage."

"You want to?" Dean questioned.

"Of course I do." he was focussing now and the intensity made Dean's skin prickle, "I told you to go but I didn't think you would."

"I made a promise."

"You make promises all the time."

"No I don't!" he cried, "What was the last thing I promised you!"

"That you'd teach Ben Sumerian." Sam paused, "You remember that?"

"You know any promises made when you're fucking me stupid don't count."

Sam grasped Dean's wrist and pulled him between his legs, "Just don't do it again Dean."

"Okay Sammy, fine." he grumbled, settling back into his brothers arms, "I'm just going crazy here! Even when things were bad we still had stuff to do. There was always a salt and burn, or a monster or something." he paused, before adding quietly, "Someone we can save."

"When we've given up on saving ourselves." Sam finished in a murmur, kissing Dean's hair, holding him tight, "I get it. I do. But all we've got left are long shots and I want this to work. I think it might."

"No one's listening Sammy." he'd lost track of how often he'd called for Castiel, "What makes you think the gods will?"

"Because they have to." Sam pressed his lips against Dean's neck, "And you know we can give them something none of them can refuse."

That Dean could agree with. All the years they'd been fighting and not one self entitled psycho whatever level of power they were could turn down the attentions of a Winchester. Especially not a Winchester that was making an offering. Just the chance to mess with them was too tempting to ignore. 

"Okay." he took a deep breath, nestled as deep into Sam's arms as he could go, "Alright. I'm sorry."

"It's alright." Sam nuzzled against Dean's cheek, kissed him, "Wanna spar?"

"Oh God!" he groaned, "I thought you'd never ask!"

Sam laughed and pushed him away, "Go get changed jerk."

"Fine bitch." Dean shoved him back and strode away with a spring in his step, "Expect to get your ass kicked!"

"Not a chance in hell."

Dean spun around and started walking backwards, wearing a smug fucking grin, "Done Hell Sammy. The odds are on my side!"

"Yeah we'll see..." Sam grinned, already feeling his body coming loose. He was so ready for this. It'd been too long since he'd been beaten up. 

Which was such a fucked up thing to think, he promptly ignored it. 

\--

Cold in Kansas was nothing like cold in Georgia. There was actual snow that fell in drifts. Wrapping Judith up tight, Rick decided to take her and Carl out into a snowfall, just a little outside the fort. 

There were no Walker's around. Winter made them slow and dense air affected their sense of smell. In a place like Kansas where it was wide, flat and icy they found themselves at an advantage. Mostly. There was never enough food but regular hunts and safer raids were helping to keep the balance. 

So when they were followed out into the field by the rest of his people Rick didn't mind so much. The sky was white. The floor was white. And little spots of cold were falling constantly, consistently to the hard floor. 

"I've never seen snow like this." Beth said softly. 

"Doesn't snow like this in Georgia." Carol murmured, her expression was distant, sad. Daryl wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his chest. This time she went willingly.

"I feel like we should be celebrating Christmas or somethin'." Glenn commented, shivering, hands tucked up tight beneath his arms.

"You gonna lead the carol singing?" Abe asked. 

"Beth's the singer." Glenn nodded at her.

"All I know is what we got taught in church...not sure that's right anymore." she said softly, arms outstretched, palms flat, to catch the snowfall. 

There was a pause, and Daryl muttered, "I still can't believe we ended up in fuckin' Kansas."

Rick was the first to snort in amusement, followed by Carl and soon enough they were all laughing. It was such a ridiculous situation. Ten people born and raised in one of the most uncomfortably hot places in the US, threw way off course by backed up highways and huge herds of the dead predictably shambling along the most convenient routes.

Going down on his haunches, Rick gently placed Judith on the floor. She was already walking but the chaos of the world they lived in meant she lacked the confidence any ordinary baby would. Too used to being picked up and carried when there was an emergency. He pointed to her footsteps and she bent down to touch it with her whole palm. Snapping her head round to make sure she was doing it right. Rick grinned at her.

"Judith you can't do nothing wrong." he promised, kissing the side of her head and letting her go for a little while. Carl was flanking. Watching attentively as his little sister took her first steps in the snow. 

The only word Rick could attribute to it all was magical. John would have called it surreal. 

It was surreal. But it was also magical.

Everything was broken and dangerous. Yet they suddenly had this. The dry cold air, snow that fluttered against the skin and an endless horizon free of Walkers. No threat as far as the eye could see. Complete, blissful isolation.

Isolation only gets you so far.

Rick resisted the urge to grip the gun at his belt and watched his children instead. It was icy cold but there was a rush of heat at his back. Memories of John had been coming thick and fast lately. After what had happened with Lori, the break he'd had with sanity, Rick had taken steps to stop his emotions spiralling way beyond his control. One of his methods was taking the time to decide what was physical and what wasn't.

It wasn't about reality. Just because when Lori was dead she led him outside the prison and into danger didn't make it any less real. It was just the kind of thing she would have done. Especially if she was pissed off at being shot by her son and consumed by a fucking Walker. Rick thought he deserved it. 

The sound of an engine changed things. It shattered through the silence. Even though they couldn't be seen from the highway, weapons were gripped and the group pulled tight. Carl collected Judith from the floor and she stayed quiet. It was what she was used to.

Michonne and Daryl automatically took point. The engine was getting closer. It was loud. Heavy, like it was attached to a big vehicle. Nodding to Tyreese to take care of Judith and Carl and make sure they got back into to fort first, he broke off with Carol and took the opposite side of the square structure. Trusting the rest of the group to know where they need to stand. 

As he moved, Rick felt flanked on both sides. Carol was behind on his left but there was no one to his right. No footprints in the snow. It was interfering with his instincts, so he hardened his attention on the road. They leant back against the wall of the fort and peeked round. A Jeep. It screeched to a stop outside the fort and three guys with weapons got out and appraised the fort. 

Not even waiting for consequences, Rick caught Daryl's eye from the opposite side and he didn't need to communicate an order for him to understand. Back inside. Retreating fast and quiet, Rick noted the snow. They had no way to cover their tracks. 

Not that it mattered. His blood was up.

Today was a special day for his people. For his baby girl. It was going to stay that way.


	7. Chapter 7

"I got it!" Amelia suddenly jumped up from her seat, "Sam! I worked it out!"

Dean tried to avoid bristling with jealousy and failed miserably as his brother crossed the room to check on her work. When he pulled over her notes and grinned, it was so bright and warm it made half the room blush. 

"Amelia this is incredible."

"What'd you find?" Aaron asked brightly.

"A summoning spell for Aion." Sam leant over the book she'd been working from, concentrating hard before suddenly pushing away and heading further into the batcave. Determined to get the same attention, Dean doubled his concentration on the ancient Roman he'd been prodding for the last week. 

The trouble with the Greek and Roman pantheon was that unlike some of the other gods from around the world there was an excess of information. Dragging out true from false was a mind numbing exercise and it was eating up hours worth of concentration. Dean had taken the lead on Janus because the opportunity for stop staring at my Janus jokes were too good an offer to refuse. Problem was the more he understood about Janus, the more irritated he became.

Beginnings, endings, doorways, transitions, journeys. All of it resounded too closely with their lives. The open road. Sammy as a vessel for Lucifer. Dean's transformation into the Deanmon. For most people their life flowed from one thing into the next, the culmination of years worth of small and large decisions. For the first half of their life the decisions had been made for them. Dad dragging them round the country on the hunt for vengeance. Then Heaven and Hell. Trying to force the hand of destiny. 

After that it had been one resounding fuck up after another. The Winchester's had fought for free will and were as dumb as any other human when they had to use it. 

Sam returned with another book and threw it at Dean, "I think Amelia might be onto something."

"I hate Sanskrit." Dean muttered, stretching his spine a little.

"They were good wizards. That's a diary belonging to some guy who hunted dragons, Amelia's guy refers to him as someone that 'walked the heavenly path'."

"You thinking he hung out with some gods?"

"Sure why not." Sam shrugged, "I'm going to get the ingredients together we need for the spell. I'm pretty sure we've got them all."

"Winchester's!"

Everyone froze. Sam and Dean pulled up straight and sought out the source of the voice.

"Winchester's! I gave you a radio for a reason!"

Dean dived to the record player where they'd left it and snatched it before Sammy could, "Sheriff! What a pleasure to hear your voice again."

"You gonna flirt or you gonna listen?" was the gruff response.

Dean opened his mouth as though he were about to choose the flirting option so Sam snatched it out of his hands, "We'll listen Rick."

"Good. We've got some visitors and I want to see if you're still good for backup."

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance, grinning at each other at the same time, "You mean you're givin' us something to do?"

"Yeah. Got a cabal of about twenty people that have hitched up outside the fort, reckon they can starve us out."

"Can they?" Sam questioned.

"No, we made sure we stocked up early in case this happened. I could wait them out but I thought it might be a nice time to test a theory of mine."

Even on radio Rick's voice commanded attention. Drawling and confident. That low hint of crazy underneath which made their sensitive Hunter instincts thrill with a combination of danger and anticipation. 

"Alright." Sam said, surveying the rest of their group who were listening attentively, "What do you need from us?"

\--

The mood in the fort was tense. After the Jeep, another bunch of cars had pulled up and waited. It seemed they were determined to demonstrate that greater numbers equalled greater rights. Rick reckoned they'd been travelling for awhile and were running low, they were getting desperate and it was making them stupid.

Once it became clear they weren't intending to move on, Rick strode out to meet the group wrapped up tight, the gun at his hip a comforting weight. Daryl was on his left. The sensation of another person on his right persisted but it didn't bother him so much anymore. If anything it made him more confident.

Guns were cocked immediately and the moment there was a hint of aggression, Carol fired the warning shot from her place in one of the guard towers. She wasn't on board with this plan. 

"I'd stop right there if I were you." Rick suggested lightly, quirking his lips, "I'm just here to talk." he held out his hands in a gesture of innocence. 

It was a group of mixed ages and abilities. An older lady, a couple of kids that weren't armed. They didn't seem to hang together properly, looking wary, tense and thin. He reckoned that the responsibility for their protection lay with the three guys in the front. They didn't each rely on themselves like his people could. Like he'd wanted them to after the farm had burned.

These assholes were definitely soldiers. It was in their arrogance. The same presumption as Abe that they were the last line of defence between civilization and complete chaos. 

And the way they chose to make that point was starting an unnecessary war.

"You the one in charge here?" one guy asked, bald headed, chewing on a toothpick. 

"Nah, I'm just a spokesperson. I was nominated by the group to see what you people needed and see if there's something we can do to send you on your way." he smiled blandly again and Daryl fought the urge to roll his eyes.

If these meatheads couldn't see that Rick was the only one they needed to be afraid of, they were idiots.

"What you can do is haul ass out of that fort before we chase you out." the guy in the centre said, far too unpleasantly.

Rick searched them all, his attention falling on a little blonde girl that was shivering as she clung tight to a woman that may or may not have been her mother. It was foolish to make those assumptions anymore.

"We can take your children and your older people." Rick stated, catching the lady's eye and trying to avoid being disrespectful, "But that's it. Ain't space for much more."

The offer had the desired effect. The group were looking to the three guys at the front, who were clearly pissed off.

Toothpick guy snarled, "You take all of us or none of us!"

"It's Winter. Kansas is fuckin' cold." Rick reminded pleasantly, "I'm happy to share what little supplies we have if it will send you on your way. Or, alternatively, we can take your vulnerable. But we ain't moving. Doesn't seem to make much sense for us to do that." another bland smile. When all he received was snarling Rick backed up, "I'll give you all some time to think about our offer." and he strode away.

"Hey!" the weapon was cocked and the only guy that hadn't spoken so far strode forward and another warning shot was fired, "You don't get to make that call!"

Rick turned around and started walking backwards, "I think you'll find the decision is all yours." and he swung round, back into the gates that snapped tight behind him. 

"You're such an asshole." Daryl muttered.

"Killing them off would be easy." Rick stated, curling his arm around Carl's shoulders as he strode forward, smiling. Clearly pleased that for once his father could have killed someone and didn't.

"I get that." Daryl agreed, "But it could go south. People have underestimated us enough times, I don't wanna do the same to them."

"And we won't. You saw the same things I did. They're cold and desperate. If they start a campaign of aggression I'll end it." he promised.

As Rick predicted, his perfectly reasonable terms were rejected. On the grounds that they'd need to come out eventually. It was stupid because it meant within twenty four hours they'd revealed their command structure, and showed their hand. The soldiers ran the show, but there were at least six more trusted with weaponry enough to take up stations. It didn't seem to occur to any of them that if they were actually a serious threat, they could have been taken out from the guard towers long ago. 

It was only when they tried to set the fort on fire and the wood actually caught that Rick got pissed off enough to contact the Winchester's. 

At dawn a few days later his people were assembled by the gate. Their orders were simple. To capture, not kill. Not unless they had to. 

It was a different sort of ask from what they were used to and he could see they were uncomfortable about it, but it had been discussed over and over again. Things couldn't go on like this. 

"You think they'll show?" Maggie asked, "Those guys?"

Rick was checking his weapon, about to reply when he heard the engine heading towards them. He'd recognise that sound anywhere. With a rush of certainty Rick knew that they had this. He laughed once, then again, when the engine was accompanied by the loud opening chords of Led Zeppelin.

"What the hell is that?" Daryl muttered and Rick grabbed the back of his neck and tugged him into a sudden kiss.

"That, Daryl, is the sound of victory." he kissed him once more, because he could, then pushed him back, swung round to his people, "We got this." he promised, "Carl the gate!"

As expected the group outside were completely unprepared for their retaliation. Especially when they were routed by the Winchester's, efficiently blocking off their exits with their own vehicles. 

Maggie Glenn and Michonne doubled up with Jody and Garth to take out the more capable civilians. Running at people that had only ever killed Walkers meant disabling them was easy. They hesitated too long and their shots were off. 

Carol and Tyreese, with the assistance of three dark haired women from the Winchester side took the vulnerable out of the firing line. 

Meanwhile Daryl, Rick, Sam and Dean concentrated on the soldiers who were annoyingly skilled, but taking them down would have been easier if Rick and Dean weren't trying to shout orders at each other. 

One called left, they went right. One called right, they went left. The loud clatter of automatic weaponry shattering glass and thudding against the wood was forcing them to shout.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!" Rick called, glancing round a car and ducking as a gun was levelled at his head, "My right! Take my right!" 

"No-left! My left!" Dean shouted back, pissed off that he couldn't get a clear line of sight.

It was building into an argument which, while it distracted the soldier's they were trying to stop, also inhibited their actual goal.

Sick to death of the fighting, Daryl and Sam shouted in unison, "Will you both shut the fuck up!" and it worked, momentarily stunning their partners into silence.

Carol shouted, "Clear!" followed by an echo from Maggie and Glenn. They were the only ones left on the field and they were all impatient to get it over with. Snow was starting to fall and Rick was getting worried about his trigger finger. 

A bullet grazed Dean's cheek as he was ducking, missing the Impala by inches, "Oh hell no! You don't touch Baby!"

He dodged out behind one of their abandoned mini vans and shot the guy responsible in the knee, then punched him hard in the face so he went down. A beat later he heard another bullet pass his ear in a trail of heat, followed by a shout as a second soldier crumbled. Dean looked up. Rick's weapon was still raised. They shared a nod and all four rounded on the last man standing, who immediately went down on his knees, arms up behind his head, recognising he was well and truly beaten. 

The rest of the day flew by in a rush of reorganisation. Sam and Dean stayed back with their group and watched as Rick won himself another seventeen supporters. The vulnerable were accepted without question. The civilians that had been trained to hold a weapon were disarmed, shown around, given the choice and it was obvious from the lack of resistance they'd put up where their loyalty suddenly lay. 

"He's hot." Amelia commented, watching Rick as he went down on his haunches to talk to a little girl.

"They're all pretty hot." Lisa agreed.

"We're hot too!" Charlie cried.

"Yeah...but looking at these people, we've had it pretty easy." Garth murmured.

Rick pulled the little girl up into his arms and strode towards the Winchester's, "Everybody this is Ally." the little girl shyly buried her head into his neck, "Ally these are the people that came to help." he held out a hand to Amelia who happily took it, "I'm Rick." he smiled, "Thanks all of you for agreeing to come." he looked at Ally, "It's greatly appreciated."

Sam couldn't help being impressed at Rick's blatant Machiavellian qualities. If he'd come over alone, maybe flanked by one of his own people, they would have gotten defensive. Bring over a cute little girl they'd worked together to save from the cold-automatic way in. 

"What you gonna do with the soldiers?" Dean questioned.

Rick's eyes gleamed with sudden cruel amusement, "Gonna leave them to stew for awhile. Beth and Maggie have taken care of their wounds, they'll get some food, the chance to rest."

"And then?"

"What happens will be their choice." he canted Ally a little and she smiled at him, snuggled closer, "It will always be their choice." he grinned at the little girl, "Come on Ally. There's someone I'd like you to meet."

Jody's eyebrows were firmly raised as she watched him depart the room, "He's evil."

"Yup." Sam agreed.

"And crazy." Aaron added.

"Yup." Dean nodded, "Come on. Let's go grab the beer-today has been a good day."

\--

The Winchester contribution of food and booze helped smooth everything over between the three groups. They got jumbled up together, laughing, sharing and settling as the snow blew hard outside. Rick spent time getting to know everyone, tightening bonds and strategically creating new ones until he was comfortable enough to let things run for awhile.

After enough badgering, Beth clambered up onto a table and started singing, ably backed up by Amelia who was turning out to be a rocking drunk. Dean was starting to get what Sammy saw in her.

Carol and Sheriff Mills were keeping an eye on proceedings, drinking slow and talking quiet. Ben and Carl were tucked together in a corner, alternately talking intently or glaring disgustedly at the gross adults around them. Rick was getting loose in plenty of different ways. Twice already he'd swung Daryl up against a wall and the kisses were getting filthier. 

"Get your tongue out of Daryl's throat and give us a goddamn speech!" Michonne shouted, "Speech Grimes! Speech!"

The chant was ably taken up by the rest of the crowd. Rick groaned and buried his head against Daryl's collarbone.

"They're your people Rick." he murmured, swinging him round and pulling him up with one arm, "Tell 'em what they need to hear." and he shoved him forward into the spotlight.

Rick grinned, laughed, then ran a hand across his face, "Alright." he spoke softly and held out a hand for them to quiet, "Settle down, settle down." and they all did, with only a limited amount of shuffling, "I suppose the first thing we should do is to thank Sam and Dean Winchester, for sharing this extremely rare, extremely welcome booze with us all." everyone turned to the back of the room and there was a boozy cheer, which the brothers accepted with a grin and a nod, "Secondly, I would like to thank them, and their friends, for coming to our aid today." he stood up a little straighter and picked out the new faces, "I'm sorry you all got caught up in what happened this mornin' but I want to assure you that none of us will hold it against you."

Rick paused, his expression was open, voice sincere, "This world is hard. We've all done what we needed to survive but that ain't enough anymore. We can't trust our fellow man to be on our side. In fact, all we can trust is that they're just as out for the kill as the creatures out there, walking our earth with nothing left. No mind, no soul." his expression hardened and he said with complete and utter certainty, "They're just appetite. We can beat them." he sipped from his drink, a short of bourbon that left a glistening trace of liquid on his lips, "But to beat ourselves-to beat all those other groups roaming around out there as lost, as hungry and as desperate as we are, we need to prove that the world hasn't ended. It's bad right now. As bad as its ever gonna be. But that ain't what it's about." the sudden rise of anger and outrage rippled across the room, "We've all been behavin' like we've given up, but no more.

"Look at this room. Three different groups of people. Different lives. Different experiences. This mornin' some of us were enemies but now. Now we can sit here and share, not ignoring the outside world, never forgettin' it, but we have to find a new way to live if we're ever gonna stop just survivin'. Otherwise we might as well dump our weapons behind and walk headlong into the first herd, let it all wash over and act like this nightmare never happened."

Sam exchanged a look with Dean. If they were feeling overwhelmed by this, Christ knew what state the rest of the room was in.

"We cannot let that happen." Rick continued, his voice emphatically softening, not a note missed in the silence, "This just ain't about ourselves. It's about the people we've lost-the people that chose to die so we could keep on livin'. To honour them, their sacrifice, their pointless, brutal murders we have to not just do the best we can, but more than that.

"They gave everythin'. And so can we." he paused again, then took a step forward, raised his glass, "To the dead."

The rest of the room intoned, "To the dead."

Sam and Dean clinked their glasses together solemnly. Rick finished his drink and Daryl immediately tugged him back with one arm, pressed his lips against the back of his neck, murmured, "Jesus Grimes. Didn' know you could get so Manson."

Rick swung round and dragged him into a sudden, needy kiss, "I meant every word."

"I know." his attention wandered briefly to take in the room, the atmosphere was a little softer, some people were crying, including Maggie and Beth, Carl was holding his baby sister close, "You know I'd follow you down to hell. Some of the other's too but now...now the people you were shootin' at a few hours ago would join us."

"What you sayin' Daryl?" he demanded.

"What I'm sayin' is that I hope you keep using your powers for good." he responded wryly. 

"You think I'm right?"

"Good and right are two different things." he nodded to Carl and Judith, "Go spend some time with your kids. They look like they need you."

Rick's expression was fierce, "You can't ever go anywhere. You know that right."

"I know it better than I've ever known anythin' else." he said softly, slipping his arms around Rick's waist and kissing him again, gently this time, "I'll come find you later." and he nudged Rick away.

In the mood for something harder than beer, he slunk up to the Winchester's at the back. They were standing so close they'd slipped into the same shadow, Sam leaning down low enough to talk intimately with Dean. Unlike the rest of their people they'd stuck together, stayed separate, but it didn't exactly seem as though they'd been missed. Looked like they were used to being forgotten when it suited them. 

Dean caught sight of his approach and smirked, "Well if it isn't the First Lady. Aren't we supposed to bow or somethin' Sammy?"

Sam rolled his eyes, "You're being a dick again Dean."

"You say it like I should be ashamed." Daryl observed, "Got anymore bourbon?"

"Plenty." Dean removed a hipflask from inside his coat and grabbed a plastic cup from a nearby table and poured in a couple of fingers.

"Cheers." he held up his glass to both of them, took a small sip, "You guys did a good thing today."

"You know we expect to leave with the journal." Sam reminded.

"You know that only happens when you explain why you need it." Daryl returned, perfectly friendly.

"We can tell you." Dean said, "Whether you believe it or not is another thing entirely."

Daryl hitched up on a nearby table, "The boundaries of what we could believe shifted awhile ago."

"That, I will drink to." Sam toasted.

\--

The party was still going strong when Rick slipped outside, to where they'd gathered the rest of the cars round the back of the central building. A handful were visible in the yellow lights still switched on indoors. 

It was freezing cold and snow was still falling. There was some movement, swearing, low, sensual groaning. Rick picked out the shapes pressed up together against the wall and smiled a little.

His footsteps crunched and there was a hiss, to stop, and he murmured distractedly, "Don' mind me boys."

Dean tried to shove Sam away, but he was pressed up against the wall with his dick being tugged. Unable to stop it, he suddenly folded over as orgasm caught him. It was maybe too loud, but Sammy came a beat later and seemed to care a great deal less about their audience. Irritated, Dean actually shoved him, "Bitch."

"Shut up Dean."

Rick wasn't listening as they tucked themselves back in, arguing and bitching. The only thing he could see was the Impala. It gleamed black and perfect in the reflected light, snow contributing to her monochrome beauty. Dean's attention sharpened when he watched Rick run a hand along her flank, his expression a complicated mixture of melancholy, nostalgia and satisfaction. 

"You know Baby." Dean asserted, striding forward to make sure he wasn't hurting her.

Rick smiled, glanced up, "Yeah I know Baby." he returned his attention to admiring the car, "That's what John used to call her."

"No he didn't." Dean was bemused.

"Sure he did." Rick flashed a grin, "Especially when he thought no one was listenin'."

"You were around to overhear?" Sam asked, pulling his jacket tight.

"A few times, sure." the corner of his lip curled in memory and Dean groaned.

"No way, you did not have sex anywhere near my Baby."

Rick settled on the opposite side of the car and rested his crossed arms on the roof, stating mildly, "Only on the hood." Dean's eyes widened in outrage, "And the driver's seat. And the passenger seat. And in the back." his grin was utterly wicked, "I have plenty of happy memories associated with this car."

Sam whistled, impressed and a little shocked that their tight ass Father that got pissed off when they smudged her paintwork would do something like that, "Wow."

"Don't you go getting any ideas!" Dean pointed up in his face.

"You've never let us have sex in the Impala." Sam returned, "All I have are ideas."

Dean's eyes narrowed and he bent down to the car, whispering, "Don't listen to them. I won't ever let them violate you."

Rick laughed, threw his head back and laughed with delight, catching Sam's eye, "You're missing out Sam. The Imapala is way better for hooking up than a goddamn truck."

"Dad's truck?" Dean's attention suddenly diverted, he stood up straight and said sharply, "Dad didn't get that truck until Sammy left for Stanford."

"Yeah." Rick's eyes locked with Sam's, "He was proud of you, by the way."

Sam's head tilted, eyes narrowed, "What?"

Rick only smiled enigmatically and pushed away from Baby, "It's getting late-it's been a long day. I'll see you boys in the morning."

"Rick!" Sam shouted, "No! You can't just say something like that and then walk away!"

He turned around and sighed, "I shouldn't have said that."

"But you did." Dean retorted, "Why?"

Rick's eyes flicked to the Impala and he said softly, "You know what gets me...that after everything, with all the shit that we have goin' on, tryin' to hold it together in the now, its that things from way before, things we thought were safely buried, that can still come back. Can still hurt like they did then. Sometimes worse." he looked up at them both and said seriously, "Your dad and I had somethin'. I loved him as hard as I ever have anyone in my life and I still haven't forgiven him for dyin'. Likely never will." 

"You ain't alone in that." Dean said softly, "He was a son of a bitch."

"Best son of a bitch I ever knew." Rick said with a small smile, head tilting as the sound of more singing floated outside, accompanied by another surge of laughter, "You boys come find me tomorrow. I think some things need clearin' up." and he strode away, boots crunching in the snow.

Sam slipped his hand around the nape of Dean's neck and tugged him close, "It's gettin' cold Dean."

"Yeah." he glanced up, nodded, leant up for a kiss, "Let's get some sleep."

\--

Pale morning light was filtering through the fort the next morning, as snow continued its relentless fall to the ground. Last night's revellers were scattered about the compound, some had just fallen slumped against the tables with empty bottles of beer scattered on every flat surface. 

Crowley picked his way through. Survivors certainly knew how to party like the world was ending. 

He paused briefly to appreciate his own joke, before turning a corner into what had become their sleeping quarters. Most of the doors were closed, not that it mattered. He could sense the reason he was here.

Gently pushing open one door with his fingertip so it swung slowly inwards, Crowley leant against the doorframe and took in the scene. The threshold was lined with salt, of course, because Winchester paranoia knew no bounds but that wasn't what gave him pause. The two greatest hunters of their generation were wrapped up around one another like kittens.

Heavily armed, homicidal kittens. But kittens nevertheless.

Dean shifted and Sam pulled him closer, the two snuggling as though they could get rid of their inconvenient separate bodies . It was disgusting. 

Crowley pulled out his mobile phone and took a snap. Prime blackmail material. 

Smirking, he left the Winchester's alone and headed just a little further along. Rick Grimes and his boy toy lay side by side, their arms and legs loosely sprawled and mixed up on their freshly stolen mattress. 

He tried to take a step forward but found his way blocked. There was no salt, no devil's trap. He simply couldn't move any further. A huff of breath snapped the two men out of sleep almost instantaneously. Rick grasped his gun and launched to his feet with impressive speed, "Who the hell're you!?"

Crowley held up his hands and took a step back, that he could do it seemed, "Tell Moose I think he and his Little Spoon are adorable." and he departed without further explanation.

Daryl blinked, "What the hell was that?"

"Get dressed." he ordered grimly, "This is a Winchester problem."


	8. Chapter 8

John woke up sweating and naked. Sun was peeking through the gap in the curtains, right across his eyes. Groaning, giving up on sleep, he slipped on a pair of boxers and tried to track down Rick. Found him in the kitchen, sipping from a cup of coffee and reading a paper.

"It still bothers me that you can get out of bed without waking me." John muttered, rubbing the back of his head and reaching for a cup on the side.

"Ever thought it's 'cos you trust me?" Rick suggested, without looking up from what he was reading.

"I don't trust anyone." he leant down for a kiss, which was returned with Rick's natural rush of passion, and John very reluctantly broke away, "Sorry."

Rick shrugged, "Don't know what you're apologisin' for."

John slipped in at the table opposite, "What time you working today?"

"I'm not."

"You're not?"

"Nope. Got a day off for once. Sheriff's orders." he glanced up, "What about you? You helpin' out at the shop today?"

"No. Free day."

Rick nodded, "You wanna do somethin'?"

John eyed him suspiciously, "What did you have in mind?"

"Trip to Vegas with your boys followed by a big pink wedding." Rick drawled irritably, "Fucks sake John I'm not some dumb broad tryin' to lure you into the domestic with some calculated quality time."

John sipped from his coffee, and took the opportunity to plan a response that made him slightly less of a dick. He had to play it carefully. To say Rick was hot tempered was an understatement. Something John probably should have noticed after their first date. Granted vamp killing wasn't on the usual list of 'Getting to know you' pastimes, but John had got the same stuff out of it. A few drinks and a sensational night of fucking. 

Not that sex was even a problem. More often than not it was used as the solution. The first time John had breached the, 'You need to know this is only temporary' conversation he'd wound up with a black eye. Followed by Rick climbing him and fucking him into the nearest flat surface. Turns out telling the guy you've been fucking for a month that it isn't ever going to be anything is patronising and offensive. Especially when said guy hadn't solicited the information. 

"Other than that." is what he settled for, engaged with the subject matter and entirely inoffensive. 

When Rick's expression softened and he flashed a smile, John mentally patted himself on the back. Crisis averted. And the boys complained he had no emotional intelligence.

"You got a hunt on?"

"Not at the moment...why?"

Rick shrugged, "Thought it might be fun. I haven't killed anything since those vamps." 

"We only got one day."

"Then we better find something local." Rick replied, turning the paper round and pushing it in his direction. John sipped from his coffee and scanned the story. Locked room mystery. Inoffensive old woman. Violent death. An appeal for witnesses.

"I take it you have the official report for this?"

"Wrote it myself."

John pulled up, "What makes it supernatural?"

"I did some checking around. She didn't have any family left. No husband, no kids. Helped out at the church, but that was the most she ever interacted with anyone. Too isolated to have enemies."

"Easy target for a serial killer." John pointed out.

"My first thought as well." Rick stood up and headed down the hall. John followed, as he was expected to do. Another one of Rick's pet hates. Being led. It was better to fall in line.

They stopped outside of the only room John hadn't entered yet, because Rick kept it locked. A set of keys were removed from his pocket and the door quickly opened. Turns out it was a study, the floor and desk overflowing with files while the walls were covered with images and notes, connected together by colourful pieces of string. 

"This what you do in your spare time?" John asked, impressed, and a little aroused. He took in the room and worked out that there was a system. They were all cold cases. The dead or the abused in the surrounding area that hadn't received justice. There was a stack on the floor, set apart from the others, "What happened to these people?"

"Vamps." Rick replied, he was standing in front of an image of the old woman that had been murdered. Reaching out from her were another bunch of pictures, old and new, with notes made beneath. Age, date of death, location. 

"What links them?" he asked, gesturing to the wall, "Apart from the way they died?"

"A painting."

John was surprised, "Painting?"

"Ugly fucking thing." he looked sidelong at John, "These creepy kids."

"First sign of evil." John acknowledged, "How do you know these other people owned it?"

"Found it in some article. A reporter from some hokey magazine sayin' it was cursed. If the police reports from the scene didn't corroborate the fact that their deaths were identical I would have ignored it." 

"There's a gap between murders." John observed.

"'Cos it vanished for awhile." he pointed to a guy that died in 1979, "His family kept it locked up in an attic. No one looked at it for years, until he died and it wound up at a King's County church sale."

"To be picked up by a lonely, childless spinster." John said bitterly.

"Yeah." Rick looked just as pissed off.

He had to agree, it was shaping up like a hunt, "What was your next move going to be?"

"Burn the painting." he replied.

"Sensible enough. Burning gets most things. Question is, what do you need me for? Looks like you've got this one covered."

Rick turned to him properly, moving into his space and John accepted gladly, "Backup."

Another good idea. John leant in and kissed him, wrapping Rick up as tight as he could, "You know, Hunters like me and my boys? We were made." he flashed a smile, "And we're good, don't get me wrong." attention wandering a little, John's hands ran up and down Rick's back as his dark eyes took in the room, Rick's private world, his unquenchable thirst for justice, for revenge, "But you Rick. It's like you were born for the war."

Rick softly kissed John's neck and withdrew from his arms, "You reckon you're at war?" 

"I know we are." that hot flame of anger licked at his insides, "More things move in the dark than you could ever imagine. Things that started human more often than not, twisted by hate, anger and vanity into something that preys on the best of what it used to be. For the sake of it. For revenge. Because it doesn't know anything else, doesn't want anything else anymore." he huffed, ran his fingers back through his hair, "There's so much out there."

"Evil is hungry, because it can't ever be fulfilled." Rick stated, blue eyes hard, expression fierce, "It is absence. And ending something that can't justify its beginning is impossible." 

"So many of us walk around like we're shells already." John murmured, heart pounding, skin breaking out in more sweat as it hit him suddenly what had been happening lately, "For so long I've felt like the things I kill. All I ever wanted was revenge on the monster that murdered my wife." he sighed, rubbed his face and leant against the wall, "Sam is so fucking smart Rick. I wish I could explain where his intellect came from because it sure as hell wasn't me. And he wants out of this life so bad...and I can't let him go. Can't trust that one day something won't come for him."

Rick leant opposite him, but didn't reach out and asked softly, "What about Dean?"

"Dean?" John nearly laughed, "Dean is the perfect soldier. Obedient, loyal and capable. When it gets bad, when Sam and I have screamed ourselves hoarse, Dean's the one that gets stuck trying to patch us back together. He took some of Mary with him after the fire. Got her eyes...Christ he even got her beauty. I ain't never seen a boy as pretty as Dean, though he'd punch me for pointing it out." he huffed out a breath, "I know what's going to happen but there's nothing I can do to stop it."

Rick moved closer, reached out, fingertips resting against the back of John's hand, "Then don't stop it. Do what you can to keep them safe and trust them to do the rest." he looked at the image of the old woman who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, "You can't stop the darkness and that saying. If you look into the abyss, the abyss looks into you. I ain't never seen anything more true than that."

John looked at Rick, properly looked. He was pale beneath the tan, from always sleeping so little. He was a borderline insomniac. Mind always chewing away at some problem, unable to see the break between his life and his job. Only twenty seven years old, Rick was already on his own track to self destruction. The same age as John when his apple pie life was torn away. He was a livewire, driven to do the best by the people that needed his help. Single minded, fierce, restless and smart. 

And John was in love with him. Wanted to do this every day. Wake in this bed, work in this room. That hollow where Mary used to be was getting filled up. Was overflowing. 

As though he knew what John was thinking, Rick was suddenly there, in his arms, "John. We can kill this thing."

"Yeah." his mind was a mess, a jumble of old things and new, "But can we do it later." his cock was hardening, "I really, really need to fuck you."

An eyebrow raised and Rick smiled, only just managing to disguise his relief, "I thought you'd never ask."

John wasn't interested in reaching the bedroom. He wanted to take Rick here. In this private space, where no one else had ever been invited. Luckily, for once, Rick was on board. They weren't wearing enough clothes for undressing to be an issue. As soon as he could John dived between Rick's legs, suckering the impressive cock he was still waiting to sample. 

Rick had been building him up, playing with his ass whenever he got the chance, making John crave the sensation of being teased from somewhere deep and hidden. The other night after a thoroughly unremarkable day, Rick had pinned John down in the sitting room and gave him the rimming of his life. He'd never felt anything like it before, so overwhelmed with pleasure his orgasm seemed to go on and on and on until he collapsed feeling empty, and a little sad. Rick then informed him that he'd just had the sort of orgasm usually reserved for women. It had unsettled him for awhile, until they were in bed a few hours later and he'd demanded a blowjob just so he could get a taste of that slow, endless burn at Rick's fingertips all over again. 

John was building a profile of his lover and coming to the unsettling conclusion that he was probably a sociopath. With too much empathy. And control issues. 

"Fuck-John-didn't know you had it in you!" he goaded breathlessly as John's tongue found its way between his ass cheeks. John wouldn't have replied even if his mouth hadn't been otherwise engaged. 

He settled into a soothing rhythm, holding Rick open so he could bury his face in as far as it could go. Breathing in the sweat, the dirty, earthy taste which was lost in the heat that swallowed his tongue. The urgent ripple of strong muscles that sucked him in deep, fucking his tongue as he prodded, pressed and attempted to consume Rick as much as was physically possible. 

"Shit-John-" it was a breath, no more words, a groan before Rick shuffled back, and commanded, "I want you inside me. Now."

John did as he was told. He'd gotten used to the tone. And it was what he wanted. Grasping Rick's thighs, John thrust forward smooth and hard. They locked at once, "Christ." he'd never stop wanting this. Knew it as well as he knew his own name. His boys names. The three of them. 

"Move." 

And he did. Rick's lips, tongue, at every inch of skin he could reach. Files got knocked over as Rick's legs swung round, knotting at the heel to hold him in place. Frantic, loud. John buried himself deep and scarcely allowed himself breath, too desperate to take Rick's, to sink beneath his skin, into his muscles and bone. Feel that fire. The risk of danger. Of it becoming wildfire that could consume everything in its path. 

God he wanted to be consumed. 

"Oh-fuck. Fuck. Fuck!" John shouted as he emptied himself violently, just as Rick did, arching up from the floor and coming untouched. Before Rick could settle back onto the floor, John wrapped him up in his arms. Kept him close for that little bit longer. 

"It's okay John." Rick murmured, stroking his hair, "You got me for as long as you need me."

"Baby I'm always gonna need you." John said softly, the two of them dropping back to the floor.

"Then I'm a lucky guy." Rick ran his fingers through John's thick, messy hair, "You're doin' your best you know. People are always gonna criticise. Always gonna say they could do it better. But you and only you are their father. They will always look to you first. And you have to do what's best, even if they hate you for it." his arms pulled tight around John's broad shoulders, "If you're at war, you give them what they need. What they want gets them killed." 

No one had ever said that to him before. John wasn't an idiot. He wouldn't win any parenting awards. It looked like he'd dragged them into the life to accompany him on his vengeance trip out of hubris, ignorance and selfishness. That's pretty much what everyone had said to him over the years and at some point he'd started to believe it. Singer was the worst. 

But If anyone thought he was happy handing a nine year old a gun when they complained about the monster in their closet, they needed to read that situation back. Of course he wanted his boys happy. He wanted it more than anything else. 

Failing that, he'd have them alive. 

Alive was better than beaten and taken by the evil he knew lurked on the periphery of their lives. Just waiting and watching. Something greater, something more total than the random acts of malignancy they dealt with on an average hunt.

"I have another kid." John confessed, because he could, because he needed.

"Other than Sam and Dean?" Rick's finger's stilled. 

"Adam." he'd never said it out loud to anyone, "He lives with his mom, goes to school, only knows me as an estranged father."

"You're not gonna train him?" Rick questioned, his fingers picking up the thread of his hair again.

"I have, a little. Took him hunting, shooting...but I don't want to drag him into the life." he sighed and pressed his forehead harder into Rick's chest, "I want him far away. I want him safe." Rick said nothing, kissed the top of his head, and that act of tenderness shook him up all over again, "I go to him, and for a few hours I can feel like a normal father. I get to be affectionate. Take him to games, help with his homework." he could feel his breathing becoming laboured, "And then I get back in the Impala and return to my boys, in the shitty motel I've dumped them in without enough money for food and drill them on Latin incantations and I don't know who I've failed more. The one son I can't get close to in case my life kills him. Yet the guilt at not telling him, not preparing him for how things really are eats at me. But Sam and Dean...this is all they know. All they'll ever really know. I can't let them do normal-not now-" he pulled his head up so he could look into Rick's eyes, he needed that blue all of a sudden, "I'm so tired of not being good enough, of doing wrong no matter what I do. Rick." he pleaded, suddenly out of words. 

Rick kissed him, murmured, "You do what you can do. You believe that it's right." he smiled sadly, "Until then you keep fighting, you keep tryin' and hope that one day they see things your way."

"How'd you get so wise?" John asked, slipping his hand through Rick's damp curls. 

"Practice." he flopped back onto the floor, "You gonna come burn that paintin' with me?"

"Sure...I just need to pick up a change of clothes first. And make sure Sam and Dean haven't killed each other."

"Seems sensible." Rick stretched and yawned, "I think I might go back to bed for awhile." he nudged John, "Might need to recover from the damage you've done to my ass."

He laughed, reluctantly stood and pulled Rick with him, "Your ass is fine."

"I might be a quick draw," he sauntered back out into the hallway and headed to the bathroom to take a shower, while John followed, admiring the come dripping down his thighs, "don't mean I need to be bow legged."

John grinned, "Fine." he watched Rick switch the shower on before stepping in behind, wrapping him up tight as cool water fell over them both, "Next time you fuck me."

Rick turned in John's arms and kissed him, smiled, gaze smouldering, "You think you can take it?"

"I reckon so." he mimicked Rick's drawling accent.

"You reckon so?" 

"Yeah, I do." and he meant it, he wanted Rick, wanted this, "But it can wait until we've destroyed that evil painting. I think I'll need some time."

Rick smirked, wrapping his arms around John's shoulders, "Baby, I'll give you all the time you could ever need."

"Ah Grimes. You're such a gentleman."

"I advise you to never underestimate the extent of southern hospitality."

"I will never underestimate you." John murmured as he buried his lips against the hollow of Rick's throat, happiness and pleasure humming beneath his skin. He felt young again. Invigorated and ready for what waited out there. Starting with that painting. Sooner that was gone, sooner they could go back to bed. 

\--

John pulled up at the house they were renting on the other side of town. There had been one near Rick's, but John already spent too much time there as it was. If they were a few streets across, he'd never come home. 

Slamming the car door, he headed into the house and called out for the boys. Dean called back from the sitting room. The curtains were closed and TV was on, with the volume was turned down. Dean was stretched out along the couch, and Sammy was sitting on the floor in front with a book in his lap. They were both sweaty and flushed. Sam looked a little out of breath.

"Got any plans today?" John asked, walking through and pulling open the curtains. 

"Cold water and sleeping." Sam replied, pausing, "I would ask where you were last night but..."

"Ah dad, you been fucking a wildcat."

John turned round and glared, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Your t-shirt rode up." Sam explained.

"Got some pretty nice scratches there Dad." Dean smirked. 

John pulled his t-shirt up and twisted round, "Dammit!" he thought Rick looked a little too pleased with himself. There were red scratches on his lower back, clearly fresh and actually human for once. It must have happened last night. Rick had been working a case and hadn't been around for three days straight. It was a short period of time, but John has felt the lack. That combined with Rick's elation at getting an arrest had made them both a little wild. 

"She hot?" Dean leered.

Sam rolled his eyes. 

"Unbelievable." was all John replied before striding away, "I need to change." 

He pulled off his clothes and searched through the bag kept at the foot of the bed. It was mostly dirty stuff, he hadn't been around enough to do any laundry. Arms full of clothes, he cut through to the kitchen and put his head through the door to ask if the boys had anything that needed cleaned when his voice shrivelled up. 

From his position he had a clear line of sight. Of his boys. Who were kissing. Dean was leaning so he was almost off the couch and Sam had twisted from his position on the floor. His fingers were buried in Dean's hair while their lips worked, pressing, pulling. It was a desperately private moment. As they paused for breath, John ducked back out of sight. 

Realising his arms were still full with clothes, John shoved them in the machine and backed out into the hallway, calling, "Boys!" he entered through the other door. They were back to their original positions. Dean watching the TV. Sam reading.

"Yeah?" Dean asked.

"You got any laundry?"

"Nope. Sammy did it yesterday."

"Alright." he nodded.

John switched on the machine, picked up his keys and got back in the car. Drove until he was out of King's County and then drove a little more. He tried thinking straight and couldn't. He felt nauseous, and angry and thousand other things he couldn't name, because he couldn't understand. In the end he pulled off onto a dirt road and grabbed the bottle of whiskey he kept under the dash. He was too sober to work this out.

His boys, his sons, no longer shared a fraternal relationship. They were kissing. Stealing a moment, which meant there had been others. Sam was only sixteen. Dean was twenty. Dean who was sexually active, experienced and seductive when he wanted something.

John's stomach turned as he considered the very real possibility that Dean was a molester. John had raised them not to trust anyone that wasn't family. Sammy never knew Mary and he had no memories of their home back in Lawrence. All he knew was the road and all he had was Dean, because John had never trusted himself enough to show them the love and affection they needed. 

All the nurturing, the care, the wiping up Sam's puke when he was sick to cuddling him through those first nightmares had fallen to Dean. 

Christ, Dean had been Sam's first word.

No, Sammy was vulnerable, but so was Dean. Relied on Sam, just as much as Sam relied on him. He'd sooner kill himself than do something to harm his little brother. At the very least it had to be consensual. Which made the situation better. Maybe. 

He knocked back more whiskey and slipped down into the seat. Didn't crack open a window, he wanted the oppressive air. Thought it would help suffocate him into oblivion sooner. 

 

\--

By the time he came round it was dark. His throat was dry, he was hungry, weak and still drunk. But he started up the car anyway. Took an easy drive back into town. It wasn't until he pulled up outside Rick's that he remembered the painting they were supposed to have taken care of today.

Clutching the rest of the bottle for support, John stumbled up to the front door and knocked roughly. There wasn't an immediate response so he tried again, harder. 

"Come the fuck in John!" 

The door swung in too quickly and he kind of went with it. Smashing up against the wall. John took a breath and made sure he could stay upright before closing it behind him, using the wall for leverage as he looked for Rick. The only light was coming from the bathroom. 

"What the hell happened to you?" John demanded.

Rick was sitting on the edge of the bath, foot hitched up on the toilet as he bandaged a nasty fucking cut on his forearm.

"Dead psycho ghost twins are what happened to me." he replied, grimacing as he pulled it tight, "Which you were supposed to be helpin' with if you recall."

"I didn't think you'd do it alone!" he cried, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I was thinking it's a fuckin' evil painting and I only had a short window to take it out." his blue eyes flicked up and John fought the sudden irrational urge to drop down onto his knees, "Where the hell were you?"

John held up the bottle, "Gettin' drunk. In my car."

"You gonna give me a reason?" he stood up, looking so fucking angry and commanding John pretty much lost complete focus, "John! You were supposed to back me up today. What happened?"

He leant against the doorframe, sipped from the bottle, "My son's are together." Rick clearly missed the meaning, so he explained, "Together. Romantically. Sexually. I saw them kissing when I went back to change."

Rick's expression intensified, "Together no questions?"

"I think so." he held out the bottle, "Know so."

"Then I think your day's been shittier than mine." Rick took it and swigged, "C'mon-I need some bad food and I think you could do with soberin' up."

They called for pizza, which John consumed with coffee, water and painkillers. By the time his head started to clear all he felt was tired, so they went straight to bed. Rick had been pretty badly beaten up, along with the deep slash on his arm, his back and sides were bruised from being thrown around. 

"You're gonna get yourself killed you know." John muttered, as he kissed a scratch on Rick's hip.

"I was careful."

"They smashed you up pretty bad." he looked up, they could see each other a little in the dark, "Ghosts are tricky. I'm impressed that you beat them though, without my help."

Rick was running his fingers through John's hair again, it was something they both found soothing, "They were just kids. I can't understand how it happens. No one is born evil."

"Ghost's loose track. The soul isn't supposed to be untethered for so long."

Rick made a thoughtful sound, "We're pretty delicate, aren't we? Humans?"

"Seems like it." John murmured, moving back up Rick's body, careful not to jostle any of his injuries, "All the things that prey on us-the vamps, the werewolves, the wendigos. The things that make currency on our souls like the demons. They all reckon we're a lower form of pondlife. That they've got the right to kill us."

"And you don't buy that?" he was smiling, amused, admiring and despite everything it gave John a thrill of joy unlike anything he'd ever experienced before.

"I think humans are dumb." John stated, "Wilfully ignorant, easily led and so deeply selfish it blows my mind sometimes."

"But?"

"But we have something all those bastards don't." he kissed Rick, just a press of lips, "We have family. We get to love in a way they can't understand and that's what scares them. Why when they hurt someone we love, we come for them, and we win. Why we'll always win. Don't matter what it costs."

Rick ran his hands up John's back, and arched a little, he was half hard, "I want you to blow me."

John didn't question. Just slipped down, brushed away the sheet-Rick always slept naked-and willingly lavished attention on his cock. Rick groaned at once in pleasure, then again in pain as he pulled against a bruise. He laughed a little under his breath, but John's tongue was working and the pain slipped away. 

It was silent all around them but for this. The shuffle of material, the wet slide of skin on skin and Rick's low, eager groans. That was all John needed, especially at the moment, just glad to be grinding against the bed while he kept his tongue busy, lapping up precome and taking Rick as deep as he could get. Swallowing around the head. All of a sudden Rick came, flooding the back of his throat and John's body was now so attuned he came as well, resting his head against Rick's thigh as the pleasure settled. 

He closed his eyes tight, and braced himself before asking, "What should I do about the boys?"

Rick's finger's moved through John's hair and urged him to come back up, "I think that it depends."

"On what?"

"On if it's hurting them."

John gnawed on his lip, a rare sign of doubt, "They're brothers."

"All they got is each other." Rick said softly, "All the movin' around, havin' to lie...the watching each other nearly die on every hunt. Builds ties and crosses boundaries."

"I've never asked about your family." John suddenly realised.

"Not much to tell. Mum and dad died when I was a kid. I was raised by an aunt with an asshole of a cousin who thought he could push me around."

John frowned, "What happened to your parents?" Rick didn't reply, waited expectantly for John to work it out, "Murdered?"

"Mugging gone wrong." Rick replied softly, "They never found the guy."

John kissed Rick's neck and worked through the words he wasn't saying, "You did."

"I did."

"How old were you?"

"Nineteen."

"Not that long ago."

"No." Rick agreed, nosing the side of John's face, kissing his temple, "They say that revenge is a dish best served cold. That it's destructive and self serving. It's all bullshit." John looked up, absorbing the fierce expression on Rick's face, "When I found the asshole that got them-some washed up drunk keeping his ass out the fire by running with gangs bigger and better then he was-killing him was the right thing to do."

"Right?"

"Yeah-right. Right for me, right for him."

John's lips found Rick's skin again, salty with sweat in the heat, "You think I should let them be?"

"I think that their life is hard." Rick murmured, "You've been raising them as soldiers and they seem like fighters. If you get involved and try to separate them, they'll close ranks. Lock you out."

"And I can't keep them safe like that." John murmured.

"They're kids. Sam's sixteen. What you want changes as you get older. It could just run its course."

It seemed reasonable enough. John groaned, "I can't believe I'm having this conversation. This is my fault. They'll never be able to build relationships with other people. How can they? When at this age I've already driven them together?" 

Rick couldn't answer that, because he didn't know. Instead he pulled John close and kissed him. They kissed until they couldn't anymore, too tired from the day and its many revelations to keep their minds straight. John moulded himself against Rick's back, pressed his lips against his shoulder, "You know I love you right?"

"Of course." Rick yawned, "I reckon I knew it before you did."

"You're a fucking smart ass." John muttered. 

"You love my smart ass." he pressed back to make a point, "Now shut up. I got work tomorrow-I need to sleep."

"You ain't going to work." John promised.

"You gonna stop me?"

"I'll tie you to the goddamn bed if I have to."

Rick laughed and melted further back against John, "No...but if you let me tie you, we might have a deal."

"Sure." John pressed his teeth against the back of Rick's shoulder, "I haven't met a knot I couldn't get out of."

"Then we have a challenge." he yawned again, muscles relaxing, "Get some sleep John."

"Yessir." John drawled.

"Asshole." Rick mumbled, slipping off and taking John with him soon after.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Filler chapter-sorry!-but there is still plenty of story to come. I promise!

Sam and Dean were on the verge of waking, wrapped up together and already kissing when the door to their room was broken open. Rick strode over the salt line without disturbing it, Daryl matching his pace and doing the same.

"Get up-now." Rick threw their clothes at them.

"What happened to private time?" Dean grumbled. 

"We had a visitor." 

Dean stood up and pulled on his jeans, shivering, it was freezing outside the sleeping bag, "What do you mean? One of the soldier's breakout?"

"It was a demon." 

They both whipped round, "Demon? No way. Haven't see one of them since it happened."

Rick's fingers were twitching restlessly at the gun on his hip, expression as dark and cold as they'd ever seen it, "Asshole left a message for you."

"What was it?" Sam asked, pulling Dean into his arms because the chattering of his teeth was starting to get on his nerves.

"' Tell Moose I think he and his Little Spoon are adorable'." Daryl answered, leaning back against the door, "That mean anything to you?"

The brother's exchanged a look, "This guy." Dean said, "He speak with a British accent? Wearing a black coat?"

"Yeah." Rick's eyes narrowed, "You know him?"

"Crowley." Dean muttered, rubbing his face, "King of Hell."

"King of Hell?" Daryl repeated, "What's the King of Hell doin' tryin' to break into our room?"

"You sure that's what he was doing?" Sam questioned.

Dean was replaying the message in his head, "Dammit!"

"What?" Rick suddenly pushed up from the wall, gripping the hilt of his gun. 

"Crowley-" he turned to Sam and tugged out of his arms, "Little Spoon. He saw us. I bet that asshole took a photo."

Sam was about to retort when Dean suddenly found himself pushed up against the wall, Rick in his face, "You think that's a problem?" he demanded, voice a smooth, cold hiss that Dean, with all his shitty life experience, recognised as genuinely dangerous, "You show up and the King of Hell pays us a visit, and you're outraged that he got a photo of you and your brother cosying up?"

Sam tried to move forward when Daryl held him back with one arm, a subtle shake of the head. He didn't like it. Wanted to shove Rick aside, but he was quick, and angry. Daryl didn't think anything was going to happen. And he was right. Rick dropped Dean and stepped back, paced to the other side of the small room, running his fingers back through his hair, "That's stupid. If he was here for you, he would have done something. He was interested in me or Daryl. Only reason he'd come to our room." 

"Don't think it'd be me." Daryl stated. 

"Why not?" Sam asked.

"'Cos I'm the only one in this room that hasn't fucked a Winchester." 

Sam pulled a face, "When you put it like that..."

Rick spun back round, "What did you want the enamel for?"

Dean's eyes narrowed in irritation. Rick had just made another leap of logic and had left them all way out of the thought process. Dad used to do the same thing, and it was annoying then. 

"Summoning spell." Dean replied.

"Summoning what?"

"A god."

"Which god?"

"Apollo."

Rick searched them both, "Apollo. Guy that dragged the sun with him on a chariot."

"Yeah."

"Also a god of time."

"Yeah."

Rick glanced at Daryl, then pinned them both to the spot with a look so reminiscent of dad it threw them both, "You're planning to make a deal-with a god-any god-to turn back the clock. To before the world ended."

"If we can." Sam replied. 

"That's crazy." Rick said, before suddenly flashing a smile, "Even if you turn it back, you'd have to make sure you were there at the source. Stop it before it all happens again. How you gonna do that?"

"We're still figuring that bit out." Dean agreed, "But we're sure there has to be a way."

Rick rubbed his eyes wearily, "And so you turn the clock back-what about the rest of us?"

Dean frowned, "You go back to how things were before. You get your life back. Your kids will be safe again."

"Judith was born after the world ended." Rick reminded, "I'd lose her. I'd lose Daryl. We found something here that deserves to be preserved."

Sam had thought about that, last night, and there was only one answer, "Clock goes back, this never happens. You don't know to miss them."

"Judith could still be born." Daryl said quietly.

"You sure about that?"

"She's got your eyes Rick." he spoke so softly the Winchester's had to strain to hear it, "Judith is all you."

"And you?" Rick demanded, "If they rewind?"

"I get my brother back."

"That enough?"

Daryl didn't answer. Couldn't. If he could keep Rick, of course he would, "This ain't about us and you know it. Millions of innocent people Rick."

"And the King of Hell walking around the fort." Rick rubbed his face, "Okay." his stance widened and he crossed his arms, "I need to leave with you."

"You do?" Dean demanded, "How the hell you work that out?"

"I have no supplies to beat back demons with. No salt, no holy water. I'm probably gonna need some silver as well, just in case."

"You think we should just share our supplies with you?" Sam questioned.

"Yes-cos if you don't, you ain't gettin' the ingredients you need for your damn spell."

"It's in the journal." Sam pointed out.

"I destroyed the journal." Rick informed them both, "But not before I broke the code. You want what's in it-you're gonna need me."

Dean groaned, "You're such an asshole."

Rick departed the room, "We're leaving in an hour. Get ready."

\--

Rick woke his people and held a quick meeting, informing them what was happening. He didn't go into details, just let them know that there was a potential new threat and the Winchester's had supplies they were going to need. 

Outside in the cold, Rick shared a private goodbye with Carl and Judith, kissing his daughter goodbye and handing her to Daryl. He was second in command and would be running things while Rick was gone. 

"The second anything goes wrong, you get me on the radio. I'll get back as soon as I can."

"Yes Sheriff."

Judith was cuddled tight against Daryl's side, her head resting on his shoulder and Rick smiled, "There really ain't anything sexier than a handsome man holding a baby you know."

"Have I told you today how gross you are?" Carl asked, pulling a face.

"Every day." Rick assured, patting Carl's shoulder and reaching out one hand to pull Daryl's head to his lips, keeping them all close for a moment longer, "Stay vigilant and kill anything you don't trust." and he suddenly slipped out of their arms, picking up a bag and striding towards the Winchester's who were waiting by their car having watched the moment. 

At the front of the fort all the original survivors, the one's that had surrounded them that first night, were wrapped up against the cold and spread across the courtyard. Watching Rick depart. Unhappy and clearly blaming them for bringing danger to their doorstep. It was something the Winchester's were used to, difference is it hurt more now. 

"What do you think Crowley wanted?" Sam asked in a low voice.

"No idea, but I don't like it." Dean muttered. 

Rick slid into the back of the Impala without invitation and at his signal the gate was opened, then closed, as they headed back across the countryside, everyone else following behind. The bunker was two hours away. Rick's mood seemed to have settled, he looked less likely to draw his weapon without encouragement, but that hardly improved things.

"We really have no idea why Crowley showed up today." Sam explained.

"I know." Rick glanced up from the world outside he'd been absorbed in, "That don' much make it better."

"We know." 

Rick scratched the back of his head and settled into his seat, closed his eyes, took slow, steady breaths. His heart was racing. It still smelled the same. Gun oil and leather. Christ he remembered being in this car. The illicit assignations on the side of the road while Lori waited back home. Too desperate to hang on until the motel.

John felt close again. A weight against his side. One hand running up the inside of his thigh, pulling his head back for kisses that ended in blood more often than not. Somehow it always came to blood with them.

"Can you tell us about dad?" Sam asked, "Explain what you said yesterday-how you knew it."

"John left at the end of that summer, but he came back." Rick opened his eyes, "Kept comin' back...and when he didn' no more, that's when I knew he was gone for good."

"I don't get it." Dean said, glancing at Rick in the mirror, "If you were so important to dad, why didn't we ever meet you?"

"You were gonna." Rick replied, "I was plannin' on leaving the Sheriff's department and becomin' a Hunter. Figured if your dad had backup to kill the thing that murdered your mother, he'd stop leanin' on you both so much. Give you a chance. A fresh start for you both-maybe college, maybe just gettin' out together for awhile."

"Hunter huh?" Sam asked, he could definitely see that. 

"Why d'you care about us?" Dean questioned, "College was never on my cards."

"When did you have time to make that call?" Rick responded.

It was a fair point that Dean conceded, "Even so."

"Look," he sighed, "I know it ain't a popular opinion, but I think that John raised you right. Did the best he could in an impossible situation. What he did for you boys, preparing you for what's out there, that's what I'm tryin' to do now. Those people back there are my family and I will do whatever I need to keep them alive."

"Dad didn't need to look for Azazel." Sam returned. 

"That's like askin' him not to be John Winchester." Rick replied, a small, sad smile on his face which anyone who loved John Winchester could relate to, "His life's work, his obsession above and beyond revenge was keepin' you boys safe." the smile developed into a grin, "He was an idiot so it didn't always come across the way it should, but his heart was in the right place."

"You said he was proud. About me getting into Stanford." Sam said, unsure what he wanted to hear.

"Damn proud." Rick's expression grew warm and fierce, paternal, protective, "And impressed that you'd managed to keep it secret for so long."

"He never said."

"John never knew how to say anythin' right."

"He told me to leave and never come back."

"Of course he did." Rick looked a little bemused, "What was he supposed to do?"

Sam twisted round, "I don't know-maybe tell me!"

"And what?" there was a flash of anger, it seared suddenly across his face, "Sam you were livin' in two worlds! You couldn't go to college and hunt at the same time-it was stupid and dangerous! If he didn't find a way to make you decide-to keep you close or keep you out-somethin' would have came for you!"

"Something did!"

"I know." he glanced outside, "And I'm sorry that happened to you Sam." Rick rubbed his face, hand scraping across his beard, "He was in a dark place after that...I couldn't pull him back...he didn't wanna be pulled back."

That pressure at his side intensified and Rick leant into it. Dean had been watching the exchange carefully, "When was the last time you saw him?"

"He got a lead on the Colt." he huffed out a sigh, "A guy he thought mighta had it turned up dead." 

The boys exchanged another loaded glance, Dean's fingers restlessly tightened on the wheel, "He died not long after that."

Rick nodded once, "Yeah I know. I called Bobby Singer-he told me what happened." he glanced up at the brothers, smiling a little, "He dragged himself out of hell. I wish I coulda been there-seen it with my own eyes."

Dean grinned, "It was pretty awesome."

Rick smiled, and his attention wandered again to the white landscape. There was a Walker on the side of the road, unable to move, snow building up around its limbs so it looked like a nightmare snowman. 

Sam huffed and ran his fingers through his hair, "I still can't believe it. I never thought there could ever be anyone else for dad."

"That was one of the many things he felt guilty about." Rick muttered, "I once pointed out that since my wife was actually alive, of the two of us, I was the one that should be angsting about betrayal."

"What'd he say?" Dean was already half smiling.

"He punched me. I told him to go fuck himself. He drove off, drank half a bottle of whiskey and came back with his tail between his legs."

"Didn't think dad could do that." Sam said, impressed and a little disturbed, looking sidelong at Dean, "Little like someone else I know."

Dean frowned, "Fuck you. I know when I'm wrong, which, for the record, is never."

Sam rolled his eyes, and twisted back round to face Rick, "So what happened? If dad kept coming back, meant he never wanted to leave in the first place."

"Demon happened." he sounded bitter, "Bobby Singer happened."

"You met Bobby?" Dean asked, running out of space to be surprised anymore. 

Rick rubbed his face, "Can we talk about this later? I'm sorry-it's pretty exhausting and bringin' up stuff that I just-" he sighed, "Until you boys showed up, I'd never told anyone about John."

Sam nodded, "Of course-sorry. It's just anything dad related-gets us you know."

He nodded sharply once, then settled back into the Impala. Closed his eyes again and turned his focus to the fort, his kids, working on potential risks and strategies because that was what he could do. What he could control. John was gone. Didn't matter what his mind was tryin' to convince him. 

The car was rocking softly and the growl of the engine was a restful. Rick felt safe here. There were guns, devil traps and Winchester's. In another world they could have been family. Maybe. 

Rick closed that train of thought down. That life was over. The King of Hell was topside and creeping round his family. Deal with that. Think about everything else after.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone who has read, commented and left me some lovely Kudos so far, despite my inability to proofread!
> 
> I'm running out of flashbacks so hang on a bit longer-the chapter after this is a biggie!! I promise.

John arrived at Rick's, shuffling round a bag of burgers trying to get at the keys in his pocket. Sick of having to break his concentration to answer the door, Rick had just given him a key. The nights he wasn't at the station, or at the bar, he was on the floor in the sitting room with files spread out. Making notes and tracing links. Losing his place just to answer the door was the sort of inconvenience he just didn't need.

Creeping in suited John just fine. It was fascinating watching Rick work. Learning the strengths and limits of chasing justice from within the system.

John accidently leant against the door for leverage and it swung open. Dumping the food at once, he pulled his gun and headed into the hallway. There'd been a struggle. The table had been knocked over and the walls were scratched.

The path of destruction led to the sitting room. Furniture was overturned. Police files scattered everywhere. A bottle of bourbon had been smashed, the sweet smell was making his eyes water. Going down on his haunches, John rested his fingertips against the shards. Stomach turning when he noticed the blood.

Rick's gun had been discarded in the corner. Turning, John noted there were bullet holes in the wall next to the door. It must have started here. Rick working, eyes to the door as always. Shot at the assailant with the weapon that remained within reach out of habit alone. A fight, someone had wound up with a bottle of bourbon to the head. It probably wasn't Rick, otherwise the fight wouldn't have carried on out into the hall.

Looked like Rick had tried to make a break for the front door, but been dragged back through the house. To the kitchen. A knife block turned over, with the largest embedded in a cupboard door, head height. Thankfully there was no blood. No body. But there was a letter on the table, addressed to him.

Slamming his gun on the table, John screwed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. His stomach was roiling in knots. The entire place stank of sulphur.

A demon had come for Rick.

Standing around wasn't going to help, so John grabbed the letter and tore it open.

_An exchange. You for lover boy. Two days to decide._

Beneath it was an address. Two days. They could do anything to him in two days. "Fuck!" knotting fingers up in his hair, John spun on the spot and tried to gather his senses. Get his mind jump started beyond the guilt that he was responsible for this. Rick was being tortured, right now, and he was just standing here.

He needed to track the demon, check out this location and get to Rick before they killed him. John could feel himself shaking all over, fixated on the fear that he could die. That John could lose him.

He couldn't do this alone.

Picking the phone up from the floor, he leant against the wall and called Bobby, who answered after a few rings, "S'up."

"You need to drive to Georgia."

"Nice speakin' to you too John." Bobby muttered, "You gonna tell me why?"

"Someone's been taken and I can't get them out alone."

"Sam and Dean?" Bobby demanded sharply.

"No. Someone else."

"And you're callin' me?" he sounded suspicious.

"Yes!" he shouted, groaned, and rested his forehead against the wall trying to pull it all back in, "Please Bobby. I don't want to get the boys involved and I got two days to turn myself over."

"...Okay. Give me your address and I'll start driving."

Relieved, John told Bobby where to head and call when he thought he was nearby, and forced himself to focus. He went out to the backyard, the door had been left wide open for a reason. The gate was hanging loose. Another quiet street in a quiet town. Certain that someone should have seen something, John started asking around. Three of the people he talked to saw Rick slumped in a red Mustang, next to a woman with long blonde hair. Not someone they'd ever seen around before.

Ellie May, Rick's elderly neighbour, seemed concerned for his virtue, "Rick's such a nice boy." her dry hand gripped John's wrist, "I've been tellin' him for years he needs to settle down. Find a nice girl."

"She didn't look like a nice girl?"

Ellie May shook her head severely, "She was wearin' this tight shirt and so much makeup! No no. Lori's the sorta woman for Rick."

Frantic with worry, John was annoyed that there was still room for jealousy to squirm around in there as well. It really wasn't the time.

Certain that they'd driven west, he decided to take a trip to the station. Talk to Shane, see if they had any camera footage that could narrow down the search.

John had to work this like he would any other case. Couldn't trust that if he stopped and thought about what was happening that he'd be able to do anything more useful than wrap himself up around a bottle of whiskey. He could and would do this.

Rick Grimes is not going to die. John vowed it solemnly to whoever was listening.

\--

Twenty two hours later, Bobby arrived. John tracked down where Rick was being held. It was the other side of town from the address he'd been given on the letter. An old shack off a dirt road, mostly collapsed, with a single flicker of light coming from a main room. He could see a woman moving around, matching the description he'd been given from Rick's neighbours but he hadn't gotten any closer than that.

Wasn't sure what he'd do if he saw his nightmares come to life.

Bobby's truck pulled up beside the Impala and John greeted him with a tight nod. It was a balmy night, with a hint of thunder in the air. The forest around them silent, nature driven away by the unnatural thing walking the earth nearby. He looked up at the full moon and repeated his vow.

Rick Grimes is not going to die.

"What's the situation?" Bobby asked, as they shook hands.

"A demon's got someone in a shack up there." he finished off his coffee.

"You know where?"

"Looks like there's only one room."

"What you planning? Guns blazing?"

John shook his head, "No. Stealth. I don't want to get in a fight with this thing until he's clear."

Bobby readjusted his cap, "Who's 'he'?"

"Rick." John headed to his car and pulled out holy water, rosary beads and his best gun, "Let's move. That bitch has had him for too long already."

Bobby followed behind and together they crept into the shack. The door wasn't locked. Demon's were arrogant, always assumed that they had the upper hand.

Keeping to the shadows, they moved slowly to avoid disturbing the creaky wooden floor. As they closed in on the room where Rick was being held, they could better hear the sound of pacing. High heels banging against the hard floor, followed by the sudden smack of flesh on flesh. John's breath caught and he froze. Gripping his weapon tight. The sound of laughter that followed sending a rush of chills up his spine.

"You are one-" there was another smacking sound, followed by the sound of spitting, "stupid bitch. I keep tellin' you-I ain't got nothin' to do with John Winchester."

"He sure spends a lot of time in your bed for a stranger." was the irritated, silky reply.

"Ever heard of fuck buddies?" there was the rattle of something metal, a huff of pain, "They not big where you come from?"

Rick's voice sounded raw and strained. When he suddenly shouted out in pain, John's body took over and he was about to burst in when Bobby gripped his arm. Shook his head once.

"The more you lie, the more I'll hurt you." she promised, "I know you're more than that. You stink of love."

Closing his eyes for a moment to bring himself back under control, John eased out a long breath and continued stepping towards the room.

"Oh I'm sorry sweetheart." despite sounding out of breath, he still managed an arrogant, sarcastic tone, "Didn' mean to offend your delicate sensibilities."

There was another crack and a groan. Once they were outside the room, John peered round. He could see the demon pacing restlessly backwards and forwards in the candlelight. The meatsuit was hot. Tall, slim and glamorous. Pouting lips and straight blonde hair. But he couldn't see Rick, he was tied up out of his eyeline. Spotting another door, he gestured for Bobby to go ahead and wait near there while John caused a distraction.

Slipping away, he headed back outside and threw a rock through the window. It smashed wide open. Within seconds she was there. Fingers gripping the frame, smiling viciously.

"I knew it!" she hissed, pushing from the frame and turning away. Moments later there was a crash and grunt. John ran back inside. Bobby and the demon were fighting in the hallway, she had him held up off the floor by the throat. John threw holy water in her face and started chanting. Eyes blackening with rage, she threw them both across the room with a blast of psychic energy.

"Never would have put John Winchester down as faggot." she strode confidently forward, "Wait until I tell the boss." a silver knife was glinting at her side.

"So you don't get an automatic ticket to the pit for fucking guys." John found he could move his hand, she was too busy gloating to focus properly, "That's useful to know."

When she was close he managed to get in a shot. They dropped. Bobby threw some water at her and started chanting again while John ran to get Rick out before this all went south. Trouble was the room was empty. There were chains linked up to the ceiling, a fresh puddle of blood but no body. Deeply relieved, John headed back out to help Bobby but found himself confronted with a tall, pissed off demon. Bobby was just behind her, unconscious on the floor. John held up his hands and took a few steps back.

"That exchange still on?"

Her eyes narrowed, dagger raised when there was a sudden gunshot. She turned around, John lunged forward and grabbed the knife from her hand and thrust hard until he felt it scrape against the bone, severing the spinal cord. It wouldn't keep her down, but it forced her to freeze. Thinking quick, Rick grasped her arms and threw her towards the chains, "Start the damn chant John!"

John started, Rick systematically firing a shot into the demon each time she seemed on the verge of rearing back. Once she was chained up, they kept her tame with holy water, John flinging out each word like his life depended on it. Roaring in anger, her entire body seized up as her mouth fell open unnaturally wide. John and Rick both fell to the floor when a flood of vile black smoke swirled around the room, before surging off out the window, momentarily blotting out the bright white moon.

Out of breath, John stood up, pulling an unsteady Rick with him. His face was all bruised up and there were strategic cuts across his arms and torso. Nothing seemed broken. All fingers intact. She'd wanted to play with him, not destroy him.

"Baby I was so fucking worried." he ran his fingers back through Rick's sweaty curls.

"Sorry 'bout that." he flinched when John's rough fingertips caught the edge of a cut, "I was supposed to get out before you came."

"How did you get out at all?" John scanned the cuffs, avoiding the dead body held in it. He couldn't deal with that just yet.

"Riled her all up and grabbed a hairclip." his voice was rough, "Bitch had a dirty mouth-she was all kinds of up in your business."

John pressed his lips to Rick's neck, trying to hold back all the guilt and recrimination that this had even happened, "I'm so sorry!"

"You serious?" Rick eased back a little, "You didn' do this."

"It was trying to get at me, through you. If I wasn't here-if-"

"I ain't listenin' to this." Rick dismissed, "Go get your friend and take me home. I need a shower, a drink and a goddamn blowjob."

John snorted out a laugh, ran a hand over his face, "We need to talk about your association between sex and danger."

"It's a perfectly natural response to almost dyin." Rick contested, looking woozy. John caught him by the waist before he fell.

"You even strong enough for a blowjob?"

"I am always strong enough for a blowjob."

"Not somethin' I need to be listening to." Bobby groaned, getting to his feet, "Demon?"

"Gone." John replied.

"The host?"

"Dead." Rick answered.

Bobby nodded, but said nothing further. They took a slow walk back to the Impala. Rick seemed pretty steady for a guy that had been tortured for the best part of a day. John kept wanting to stop and check that this was real-not some delusion brought on by blind fear and denial. It was difficult not to grasp him hard and risk jostling his numerous injuries.

"How long do you think I can take off work?" Rick asked, as a huge flash of light exploded overhead, followed by a massive crack of thunder.

"You'll need a week at least." John replied.

"A week. So three days."

"What sorta week is that?" he demanded.

"You're buildin' in extra time just in case-so three days is actually what you mean."

Water started to fall, hitting the ground hard, cutting off his response. Luckily by then they'd reached the Impala. Bobby agreed to follow them back to Rick's. John settled him in the kitchen, poured the whiskey they all needed and headed through to the bathroom to grab a first aid kit. The mess could wait.

Bobby sat on the table opposite and watched John carefully treat each of Rick's cuts, washing them out and treating them with antiseptic.

"You were pretty ballsy back there." Bobby observed.

"You think?" Rick hissed as John cleaned a cut in his lower back, throwing a glare at his lover who opted to ignore it.

"You were an idiot. Who deliberately pisses off a demon?" John muttered, deliberately pressing down on a cut. Rick smacked him hard around the back of the head in return.

"An idiot that saved your fuckin' ungrateful ass-for the second time I'd like to add."

John's dark eyes flashed up, "Luck."

"Says the idiot that goes out huntin alone in a strange forest, with a fuckin' active monster in the vicinity."

"It was recon!"

"It was lazy and stupid." Rick retorted, pouring another glass of whiskey.

Bobby rubbed his face, tried to hold back a smile, "Nobody's ever called you that before John."

"First time for everything." he sat back, took another gulp from his drink, "That's all I can do for now. The cuts aren't deep, I don't even think most of them'll scar."

"I won't even get one? Dammit." his bright blue eyes were glinting with amusement, "Woulda liked somethin for my trouble."

"Your life ain't enough?" John returned.

"Life's plenty of trouble." his red lips softened from a smirk into a smile, "Thanks for comin' for me." he looked at Bobby, hit him with a full blast of earnest charisma, "And you Bobby. You don' even know me."

"Savin' people is my job."

"Don' make what you did any less important and it sure as hell don' make me any less grateful."

Unsure what to say, unable to hold a stare so intense, Bobby knocked back the rest of his glass and got to his feet, "We need to clear out that cabin."

John looked like the last thing he wanted to do was leave Rick behind, but he knew that they couldn't leave a body hanging up in the wilderness for much longer. They shared a long look, bodies closely inclined, John's hand resting on the back of Rick's chair, Rick's fingertips twitching restlessly on the table before John. In the end John leant over, they shared a kiss, and he followed Bobby back outside.

It wasn't until the body was burning low that John seemed remotely ready to open up, "So."

"So." John returned, burying his hands deep into his jeans pockets, shuffling as he watched the fire start to slow, hindered by the steady drip of rain as sunlight started to drift across the horizon.

"You've got a guy."

"Yeah."

"Wanna tell me how that happened?"

John raised an eyebrow, "You serious?"

Bobby held up his hands, "Hey-s'far as I knew, you stuck to women."

He shrugged, "What do you want me to say Bobby? We met, stuff happened."

"Including this." he gestured to the pyre.

"Including this." John sighed wearily, rubbed his face.

"He the reason you've been off grid?"

"Yeah."

"The boys know?"

"Not yet."

"Not yet!" he grabbed John's arm, "You mean you're plannin' to stick around?"

John's gaze darkened, pulled his arm back, "I haven't decided what I'm going to do yet...but I'm not ready to leave him behind."

Bobby frowned, and said seriously, "John...I can see how happy you are at the moment. And that guy could clearly kick your ass if he wanted to. Hell I'm even impressed at the way he dealt with that demon."

"You're heading towards a but." John said in a low voice.

"But he's gotta chance to live outside of all this." he said it low, impassioned, "And you're chasin' the worst type of demon John. What they did to him today-you and I both know that's nothin' to what it coulda done."

John took a step back, ran his fingers through his hair, "He could be a hell of a Hunter Bobby. You should see him in action. It's a thing of beauty."

"All the more reason to keep him outta the life." Bobby replied, shrugging helplessly, "It's one thing to have bought your boys up in this, but to do it to Rick as well? How's that fair John?"

It was all completely true of course. Since the moment Rick had been taken John knew that he'd have to leave. Turn tail and take his shit with him. Thinking it was one thing. Hearing it said out loud was another.

Clearing his throat, John nodded, "You're right."

The shutters were suddenly way down. Bobby opened his mouth to say something, to maybe apologise, but John walked off, kicking the body off the pyre and into the waiting the hole they'd buried and attacking the pile of damp earth with a shovel. Bobby attempted to help but was summarily dismissed with a demand for a bottle of water instead.

So he stayed, and watched, as John systematically buried whatever life he'd started here with every wet slap of earth on bone. He was sweaty, dirty and growling a hell of a temper by the end. As the sun rose bright and gold over Georgia, John Winchester had resolved to leave, to let Rick Grimes go and get back on the hunt. He'd gotten soft, gotten lazy. Seduced and led astray.

He'd foregone the right to love the night his wife was murdered. This was it. This would always be it. Until he got the bastard, or the bastard got him.


	11. Chapter 11

Rick whistled, impressed, as he followed Sam and Dean through to the library in the bunker.

"I thought y'all looked suspiciously well turned out." he drawled, bright blue eyes flicking over the functioning light bulbs, highly polished furniture and casual trappings of old wealth. 

"This turned out to be one of our less crappy legacies." Dean introduced, "Men of Letters. The geek version of Hunters."

"Henry Winchester fell back through time by mistake and told us all about it." Sam added. 

Rick's fingertips ran lightly over the books and notes that had been left open when they received the call, "Winchester. John's father?"

"Yeah."

"So no matter what, John would have wound up dealing with the supernatural." he paused and turned to the group that were filtering by, heading back to their rooms, "His hand had already been dealt way before what happened to your mother."

"Yeah-there were reasons for that." Sam muttered, "We're gonna go dump our stuff." 

"Make yourself at home." Dean flashed a smile as they walked by, "Then we can start bartering information for supplies."

"Be prepared. I drive a hard bargain." Rick said distractedly as he read the some of the titles on a nearby shelf.

It was warm beneath ground, so Rick dumped the coat and rolled up the sleeves of his jumper, surmising that the bunker had to run off a separate grid. No doubt necessary for a hidden society of supernatural scholars. No way this place was made for Hunters. All those guys needed was a portable armoury and a bar. 

The sound of talking and chattering echoed as though from far away, suggesting the bunker was probably bigger than it seemed. Wandering round the stacks, Rick found a section written in English and picked out a slim, red leather book. It creaked as he opened it, dust and old paper a great deal more pleasant than the content. It was a collection of gruesome carvings. Men consuming other men. Monsters with too many limbs, tearing apart women and children. A woman laying with a many headed beast, its engorged penis penetrating her from behind. 

There was barely a flutter of sound and Rick dropped the book and spun round, gun cocked and ready to fire. Crowley. Being dragged back across the library until he was thrown up against the opposite wall. Glasses crashing to the marble floor. The King of Hell suspended in the air by an invisible force. 

Rick's eyes narrowed and he watched carefully as Crowley struggled. It was as though something was choking him. Eyes bulging. Skin gradually changing from white to red. 

"What the hell is going on!" Dean shouted, holding up his gun as Garth and Sam flanked him from the steps at the other side of the library, "What the hell are you doing!"

"This ain't me." Rick murmured, lowering his weapon and stepping forward, eyes locked with the demon that had arrived at his door just a few hours ago. Irritation and discomfort the only emotions of note. 

"Then what the hell is it!" Dean demanded, "Wait-don't!"

Rick reached out and rested his hand against what ought to be air. Instead his fingertips brushed the nape of a neck. There was a sudden shudder, followed by a brief flash of deep golden light. Growling in irritation that his glamour had been forced to drop, John Winchester threw the King of Hell onto the table and spun around to face Rick. 

"What the hell were you thinking!" he shouted.

Rick cocked his head, raised his gun and shot John in the chest.

"I'm thinking you're meant to be dead." he replied, looking cool and speculative. 

Then he shot him again. 

"Stop doing that!"

Sam and Dean, recovering fast, immediately stepped carefully forward with their guns raised. Just as John glanced over his shoulder, holy water was thrown in his face and Sam lunged forward to scratch his forearm with a sharp silver blade. There was no reaction. John just looked pissed off.

Rick looked to the boys, "This isn't my imagination, is it?"

Dean eyed this thing that looked like his father down the barrel of his gun, "No...but I'm not sure what it is. What the hell are you?"

"I'm John Winchester." he replied, as calmly as he was able.

Crowley moved and John grabbed him by the lapels and threw him back down onto the table, teeth bared, dark eyes fierce with rage, "You're going nowhere until I say!"

Crowley raised his eyebrows, grasped John's wrists and shocked him with a sudden spell, weakening him enough to shove aside, "What is it with you Winchester's?" he asked, jumping off the table and rearranging his coat, "The presumption." black eyes narrowed focus on Rick, "I'm not here for you."

Rick's lips moved into a flicker of a smile, but he said nothing. John moved and Rick raised his gun again, "You take a step to defend me and I will see what happens if I get you between the eyes."

They glared at one another, brown on blue for what seemed like forever. When John silently followed the command he'd been given, subtly shifting his weight away, Rick's attention returned to Crowley. 

"Sam. Dean." followed a sudden rustle of wings, "We've had reports that Crowley's been spotted walking the earth again."

Dean tore his eyes away from his father's side profile to frown at Castiel, "Might wanna turn around there Cas."

"What-oh." Cas took in the scene, and added to the crazy by breaking into a bright grin, "John Winchester!" he held out his hand, "It's such an honour to finally meet you sir."

Sam and Dean looked at one another, Sam's finger's instinctively tightening around the hilt of the knife as his heart rate went up another notch. Cas had pretty much just confirmed that their father was back from the dead.

"Castiel." John's manners were still too good to brush aside such a welcome and he took the proffered hand, "Good to meet you too." 

Castiel shook it enthusiastically, huge cornflower eyes remaining wide open with joy and admiration, grinning like a kid meeting his hero for the first time, "I was such a fan of yours in heaven."

"Err-Cas." Sam tried to interrupt, profoundly weirded out, "Other things going on right now."

Rick and Crowley had been locked in a staring match of their own. Seeing who would make the first move. Rick's gun was back in its holster, but they both knew it wouldn't dent his reaction time if needed. In the end accepting that he had nothing to lose, Crowley smiled, "I don't suppose you'd be interested in making this a little more private?"

"Since my dead ex can make himself invisible, I would rule out privacy for now." Rick recommended, smiling, blue eyes cold and impenetrable, "What can I do for you?"

"It may or may not have escaped your notice, but the world seems to have regrettably come to something of an end." Crowley replied, warming up now that he finally got to start his pitch, "Leaving me with a small resourcing issue." he fluttered his eyelids and added archly, "So many damned souls, so little time."

Rick's head tilted a little to the side, "I don' think I got the sorta skills you're lookin' for. Middle management was never really my thing."

"Oh no-I have plenty of demons to do that for me." the corner of his lips curled, black eyes glittering with hunger and promise as he took a step closer to his goal, "No, you see, it doesn't suit my interests for the human race to make itself extinct. Ask Sam and Dean on that one-I have something of a weakness for your kind."

Rick said nothing, but Crowley could feel the dark storm of emotions brewing beneath his skin. Such calculated, intelligent fury. A terrible, determined sort of bloodlust that ran so deep the Throne of Hell resonated with it. 

"I love your plan. Dragging humans back from the brink and killing anyone unable to see it your way." 

"That isn't how I'd put it." Rick responded softly.

"No-you give them a choice. Which as a man that's made his way in life by making one sided deals, is a skill I really do appreciate." he flashed a grin, "But what you've done best Rick, is the thing I really need." he risked another step, "You took a bunch of normal people. With hopes, dreams, morals and turned each and every single one of them into a weapon. Moulded them into cold hearted killers."

Rick's fingers twitched, "They needed to survive."

"You hacked a man to pieces with a machete at an alter." Crowley savoured the words, "It was majestic."

"It was necessary." he returned.

"What I want, Rick, is a right hand man." he glanced sidelong at Dean, "My last attempt at finding a worthy general was a profound failure."

Dean's eyes narrowed, "Fuck you."

"And what do I get in return?" Rick questioned, "I'm not just gonna hand over my soul for nothin'."

"Your children, your lover, will be safe." Crowley answered, now fully within Rick's personal space, looking as deep as he could into that cool, blank face, "I will give you a Legion to command. Demons to train and shape as you desire. All I want in return is your loyalty."

Rick eyed the demon closely, before leaning over and murmuring in his ear, "Give me some time to think about it."

Crowley twisted his head so their faces were a breath apart, "Of course."

Infuriated, John made to part them, only for Crowley to vanish before he could. Instead he caught Rick by the arm, "You can't seriously be considering it."

Fury breaking to the surface, Rick pulled his arm back and raised his gun, "John I am so angry with you at this moment, that if you even attempt to touch me again I will put a bullet in your chest. The fact that it won't kill you isn't what's stopping me!" he spun around, grabbed his coat and the katana on display, striding back upstairs, "I need to fuckin' kill somethin'."

John rubbed his face, glanced at the angel standing at his shoulder, "Castiel-would you mind?"

"Of course sir." and he immediately set off in the direction Rick had gone. 

All of a sudden the Winchester's were left alone. Apart from Garth, who made a very awkward exit from proceedings, "I'm just gonna-" Dean shot him a glare, "Yeah."

Dean lowered his weapon, then swung a punch at his father's face. John's head swung round, a neat flare of pain on his cheek while Dean cried out, holding his hand, "What the fuck!"

John held up his arms, "Boys-"

"How long?" Sam spoke quietly, chest heaving as he held back his own flood of emotion. 

"Sammy-"

"How. Long?" he repeated, fingers gripping the knife in his hand again. 

"Honestly-I have no idea." John shrugged, "I lost track of things after Hell."

"How are you here? You're supposed to be in Heaven!" Dean cried, "You were supposed to have found peace!"

"How the hell was I supposed to rest in peace while you were facing down the Apocalypse?" John demanded, "And that virtual reality crap they call Heaven? You seriously think I wouldn't see through that?"

Sam frowned, "What about mom?"

"Finding out that you've been set up to produce the vessels for Michael and Lucifer puts your relationship into perspective a little." John replied, glancing briefly over his shoulder to where Rick had left, before flicking his attention between his two sons that had undergone so much since he'd died, "Don't much matter if the love is real. When the choice isn't yours to start with."

Dean sighed, then wrapped his arms around his father's shoulders. John's face crumpled as he brought his arms up, "Sammy get in this!" Dean commanded, grabbing his brother's hand and tugging him in close. 

It was an awkward hug for three fully grown men, but they held it for as long as they needed to. Sam pulled back first, absently running a hand down Dean's back, the two of them instinctively drawing in together. 

"So why now?" Dean asked.

"Why stay hidden?" Sam added, hitching up on the end of the table.

"I'm supposed to be dead." John shrugged, rubbing his face wearily, "You boys have settled down now. Found your place in the world. My returning would disrupt things."

"All those times we were struggling alone and could have really done with some family around?" Sam demanded, "Demon blood-the Cage-Purgatory. Didn't think to show yourself then?"

John sighed, "Christ Sammy-hold back why don't you? I've had my own shit to deal with."

"Like what?" 

"I was hunting."

"Hunting?" Dean repeated in disbelief, "Hunting what?"

"God."

That blew them both away. Huffing in shock, shaking his head, Dean decided that he couldn't continue this conversation without being a little bit drunk. Forgoing a glass, he just grabbed the nearest bottle and took a long gulp, handing it to Sam who copied the motion. John shook away the offer. 

"So." Dean began, crossing his arms and leaning next to Sam, "God?"

"Yeah-son of a bitch wasn't easy to track down."

"You found him?" Sam questioned. 

"I did. You boys have met him." they exchanged a glance, waiting for the answer, "He was hiding in plain sight, pretending to be one of his own prophets...mostly for a joke."

"Kevin!" Sam cried.

"Chuck."

"Chuck?" Dean repeated, "That weedy little guy sleeping with his biggest fan?" John gave him a look and Dean conceded that it made a kind of sense, "So when the world was ending, he was there all along? Just watching?"

"He let me say yes?" Sam's voice was a deep, low rumble of rage and betrayal. Without thinking Dean reached out, placing a hand against Sam's chest, fingertips spread out across the pounding of his heart.

"God's a looser." John shrugged, "He put all of his life into this world and when Lucifer turned on him, showed off just how easy humans were to tempt into evil, it pretty much broke him."

"That his excuse?" Sam said in disbelief.

"He's God." John shrugged, "He's sensitive and stubborn as hell. Rather than get involved, he thought it would be better to let you boys tear it all apart, start breaking down the binaries between Heaven and Hell."

"Sounding a bit familiar there dad." Dean pointed out, taking the bottle back once Sam had taken another gulp.

"Yeah well we're drinkin' buddies now. God's washed up and he knows it. Now all he wants is to be left alone with his bourbon and many, many insecurities."

"And his view on this?" Dean questioned, "Leagues of the Undead chomping their way through what's left of his science project?"

"Same as his view when the world almost always comes to an end. Maybe it's time." John replied heavily, "Besides even if Chuck wanted to fix this, he probably couldn't. He's all knowing and everywhere, but he creates things, makes them happen. Undoing something isn't in his coding."

"Okay. Awesome." Dean nodded, shook his head, sighed and looked across at Sam who seemed a little calmer than before, "And you? Invisible? That glowing gold thing you did?"

At this, John actually looked a little sheepish, rubbing the back of his head, "So turns out if you take a little bit of Hell, mix it with some stolen grace and get blasted with the drunk, pissed off divine you become a kind of..."

"Kind of..." Sam coaxed.

"God."

Dean barked out a laugh, "You're kidding me? God? Of what?"

"Not sure-I think it might be vengeance." he shrugged, "I took a road trip through the Middle East a few years back...stayed in Egypt for awhile, then Syria."

"The Arab Spring?" Sam demanded, "You were the Arab Spring?!"

"It was an accident!" John cried, "Besides I don't know for sure. Chuck doesn't either." this time he took the bottle from Dean before he handed it back to Sam, "I feel normal most of the time. A little stronger maybe, a little faster but I sure as hell don't have any cravings for blood sacrifices or congregations." John took a swig and squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself.

"Okay-so-change of subject." he opened his eyes again and glanced between his boys who were wearing the same sarcastic, expectant expression and had to take another drink, "In the spirit of clearing the air." he sighed, took another drink and held it out to Sam, "I know."

Sam took it, frowning, but maintaining a poker face nonetheless, "Know what?"

"About the two of you. Being-you know-together." their expressions hardened and John held up his hands, "It wasn't through spying on you! I discovered it by accident years ago and kept my mouth shut."

Dean's fingers tightened on his arms, "You wanna repeat that?"

"Back in Georgia-I came back from Rick's one morning and you were kissing in the sitting room."

"That's somethin' else we really need to talk about!" Sam pointed at him, "Along with Adam."

"You know about us!" Dean shouted, as the enormity of what John had just said started to settle, "Are you fucking serious! All those years on the road-after Georgia-and you said nothing!"

"What was I supposed to say?" John cried defensively, "It wasn't like I could sit you both down and say it's okay, you can start making out in front of me because it really wasn't okay!"

"And you just let us carry on!" Sam cried.

"If I'd tried to separate you, you would have closed ranks and locked me out! I wanted to keep you safe-and you wanted each other. I just-accepted it." John eyebrows flicked up, "I'm not even sure how you thought you'd be able to keep it secret." he gestured to them both, "Dean you're practically sitting in Sammy's lap at the moment."

Dean's head snapped round and he took a deliberate step to the side. Sam rolled his eyes, "On that note-I'm gonna take an exit from this family reunion. I need a fucking shower."

Pushing off from the table, Sam patted John's shoulder, and strode away. Dean watched him go, trying to look away, and finding his attention suddenly diverted by the sweep of Sam's shoulders, the always promising tease of slim hips. 

"Dean-follow." John ordered.

"What?" he spun round, attempting an innocent expression, "What are you talking about? I don't need to follow. Sam's fine-I'm fine-we-" he held himself off from finishing the sentence, "Shit dad I can't believe you're here and I don't have to find a way to kill you."

John, fully appreciating the sentiment, smiled. Dean wasn't sure he'd ever seen an expression like it on his father's face before. Back when they started the fight against Azazel everything was deep in the dark. No leads. No money, no safety net, no structure beyond the regular killing of monsters. There was so much fucking misery. Every smile tempered by the memory of what had been lost. This was different. He looked younger, happier, dark eyes glittering with warmth. 

"You look handsome like that." Dean pointed at his face, "Use it to pull your boyfriend back from crazy-'cos if Crowley gets him, we'll all be fucked." he flashed a smile, "I'm gonna go annoy Sammy for awhile." and he walked off with a marked bounce in his step. 

\--

Dean was sitting on the steps at the edge of the library, tearing apart a fresh loaf of bread with his fingertips as he watched the bizarre tableau playing out in front of him. Rick was sitting at the head of the table with Sam, the two of them locked in a battle over the spell in the journal, in exchange for demon killing supplies. What had started as a serious discussion had descended into a battle of wits as one tried to outsmart the other. It was pretty fascinating actually. It'd been awhile since Sam had gotten to exercise more than just his muscles. 

"How's it going?" Charlie asked, settling down beside him.

"Not good." Dean murmured. 

Charlie was referring to the Unfinished Business in capital letters between their dad and Rick. At the moment John was standing up, leaning against the stacks, making a poor attempt at reading a book while surreptitiously stealing glances-or just staring-at Rick. Who was flat ignoring him. While Castiel remained at John's elbow. Displaying that charming, if unnerving faithfulness only angels were capable of.

"Man he looks so whipped." Charlie observed.

"I knew you must have got that look from somewhere." Amelia said, settling down next to Charlie.

Dean threw her a sarcastic smile, "I am not whipped."

"Oh Dean you are so whipped." Charlie disagreed.

As if on cue, Sam called out and requested some water, and he stood up to get some without thinking. The girls burst out laughing and Dean threw some bread at them. 

"Screw you."

Charlie made a loud whip lash noise. Castiel inclined his head curiously and addressed Sam, "Shouldn't having your ex around be awkward?"

Sam looked up from the paper he'd been working on, gaze skirting across Rick, "It's fine Cas. We worked our stuff out a long time ago."

Castiel seemed thoughtful, "How?"

Moistening his lips, Sam pulled up a little straighter, eyes briefly meeting Amelia's, "We were both in a dark place when we got together-missing other people. Wasn't right."

Dean handed Sam a glass of water, placed another in front Rick who thanked him. Then made an excuse to leave. John watched, clearly itching to follow. Dean would have commented on how pathetic it was, if it wasn't for the fact they'd all got a hell of a show after Rick's return from Walker killing the day before. 

Covered in dirt, sweat and gore he'd dropped the katana unceremoniously on the table and headed into the bunker to find some water to wash down. John followed and within moments a shouting match of epic proportions kicked off, dragging all residents out of their rooms to listen. There was no point pretending they couldn't hear it.

Dean and Sam had been in the process of enthusiastically undressing each other before heading into the shower when it started. It was incredible. They had never heard anything like this growing up. Their dad had always been alone-never once in the presence of an equal and Rick was giving him absolutely no quarter. They addressed each other with all the passion and bitterness of lovers gone wrong. Covering everything from the way John had left sixteen years ago, to the invisible stalking and chronic unhelpfulness as Rick tried to keep his people safe in the wilderness. It ended with another gunshot followed by a warning to stay the hell away. 

Which would have been well and good if the command wasn't tempered with sexual tension so thick it was effecting everyone. Even Cas seemed to have picked up on it, which was saying something. They weren't even doing anything. John was openly pining. Rick was openly ignoring. Nevertheless they were physical, action orientated men that still loved each other. Keeping back was clearly costing them both something. The resistance to what came natural was filling up the space with things unsaid and more importantly, things undone.

"Daryl-what-" Rick was on a radio, running back to the table where he'd left his coat, eyes alight with fire, "Daryl!"

"They ain't just Walkers!" Daryl's voice crackled down the radio, "Shit!" the sound of shouting and gunfire, "Carol!-Rick-baby. I gotta go!" and the line went dead. 

"Daryl!" he shouted at the top of his voice but there was nothing but the crackle of static, "Daryl! Fuck!" 

Tossing the radio on the table, Rick dug his fingers back through his hair and took a couple of steps back into the shadows. The bunker was in silence. Amelia's hand had crept into Charlie's. Dean's hand gripping Sam's shoulder. John was standing straight, waiting. 

Bringing himself back under control, Rick turned around and scanned the room, appraising each person in it when he settled on Castiel.

"Castiel." he pulled up straight, slipped on his coat, "How fast can you move?"

Castiel's bearing changed, expression shifting as though he were answering to a commander, "Almost instantaneously." 

"You'll need to take me back to where my people are." it was spoken quietly, head inclined as though imploring. 

"Of course." he nodded. 

"Good. Let's move." he adjusted the gun at his waist, "We can't waste anymore time."

"I'm coming as well." John stated.

"Like I'd go headfirst into a fight with fucking demons and who the hell knows what else without a god at my back." the tone was light, but the words were searing, his attention shifting to Sam and Dean, "You don't need to come. I don't wanna be in your debt more than I already am. But my kids and my family are back there."

"You don't even need to ask." Sam replied, "Dean?"

"Give us five minutes to gather weapons." he agreed.

Together they ran back to their rooms to prepare. Meanwhile Rick paced, fingers tightening, loosening, shaking out his wrists. John moved into his path, hands open in a gesture of surrender.

"Just takes a second John." Rick breathed, "If anythin' has happened to my kids-to Daryl-"

"Then you'll get them." John reached out, gripped both Rick's forearms, "But you trained them well. Carl is a crack shot and they'll have to tear through every one of your fucking scary people to reach Judith."

"Don' matter if they're demons." Rick replied, "I had time to share some stuff about huntin'-we've got some dead man's blood and silver stocked up-but holy water? Devil traps. No time to do that-it was stupid. I should have known that's when they get you."

"You don't know anything yet." John reminded quietly.

"John-"

Rick hadn't pulled away, so John let his hands run up until they were settled on his shoulders, "You don't know anything apart from the fact they're under attack. On home territory." he dared one hand on the nape of Rick's neck, it felt dangerous, like trying to tame a predator, "Don't go to that place yet. Don't get defeated before you know all the facts."

Closing his eyes, taking a deep breath, Rick rested his head briefly against John's hand before taking a resolute step away. John recognised the action. He was withdrawing. Preparing. Sam and Dean returned, sharing weapons and discussing strategy.

"You follow me." Rick ordered, "I know the layout of the fort-I know the people."

"We know the enemy." Dean returned. 

"So do I." Rick's fingers were wrapped around his belt, "I cannot follow in this situation. I can only lead. And I have to trust that you will be where I need you to be. If you can't do that-"

"We got it." Sam broke in, "Rick we'll do what you say."

His blue eyes flicked between the brothers, lingering on Dean, "You better. If somethin' happens because you decided somethin' different." 

"Rick trust us." John interjected. 

"Fine." he pulled out his gun and machete, then nodded to Castiel, "Take us. Now."

John gripped Rick's shoulder, Castiel took Sam and Dean's. In seconds they were gone, dragged immediately into a fresh kind of hell.


	12. Chapter 12

Dropping the radio on the floor, Daryl immediately ducked a blow and thrust his knife up through the neck of the Walker that followed him, using it to shove aside the other three snapping their nasty faces at him. 

Dispatching them as efficiently as he could, Daryl headed back into the fray. It was absolute chaos. There were Walkers, pricks with black eyes and some other creature with flashing eyes he couldn't name yet surging through the halls. The walls were splattered with blood and rotted Walker limbs scattered over the floor. From every corner there was shouting, automatic gunfire and the urgency of messy, uncertain commands. 

The new people they'd taken in weren't trained enough to take care of themselves and were the first to panic. On his way to contact Rick he'd already walked over three whose names he hadn't even had time to learn yet. It was such a brutal, unnecessary waste it turned his stomach, despair and frustration taking up where there would have once been clear cut anger. 

The only thing that seemed to be in their favour was the volatility of their own attackers. They seemed to be as interested in fighting each other as tracking down the humans they'd invaded. Slipping behind a demon fighting off a swarm of Walkers, Daryl turned a corner and headed toward where he'd last seen Carol. 

They had set aside rendezvous points in case of attack after Terminus, but this mess had come literally out of nowhere, from every possible direction. Daryl had been in the storeroom with Carol double checking their food supplies and planning another run when it started. A child's scream followed by the sound of gunfire.

They'd ran out to the compound to find Carl defending Ally and fighting off two Walkers, backed up by some normal looking guy with black eyes and a dangerous smirk. Taking Rick's words to heart and not hesitating for a second, Carl fired and got the asshole between the eyes. It didn't drop, but was forced to hold back long enough for Carl to nod confidently in Daryl's direction and take off towards Judith's room. 

Daryl ducked another attack and cried out Carol's name again, as some dick with teeth unlike anything they'd ever seen before headed direct for her neck. All at once the stories Rick had told them all suddenly clicked. 

"It's a fuckin' vamp!" Daryl shouted, kicking off the seemingly never ending stream of Walkers. Thinking fast, she reached out and grabbed one, shooting it in the back of the head. The gore slowed the vamp down enough for her to catch the machete Glenn was throwing in her direction and behead it.

"I'm getting Judith!" Daryl shouted.

"We got you covered!" Glenn shouted back.

Michonne appeared at his side and together they fought their way towards the secure room Rick had set up for his kids. Paranoid and mistrustful, he'd built the equivalent of a safe room at the northern most part of the compound, equidistant from three separate exits and near to a discreet route through a small alleyway to the front gate. Carl's orders were clear. Grab Judith and hunker down and wait until help arrived. Carl had argued at first, that it made them sitting ducks, until Rick stocked the room with ammo and reminded him of the tactical strength of bottlenecking your enemy. 

That, and the fact that a kid running with a baby presented too much of an easy target. Rick's advice was to follow your instincts and only act within the parameters he'd laid out. If it went quiet, escape. If there was still shouting and fighting, hold on until someone came to help. In the end Carl had seen the wisdom and agreed. 

If they weren't there, Daryl wasn't sure what he'd do. The thought of explaining to Rick that they'd lost his kids was frightening. 

\--

"What the fuck is going on here!" Dean shouted, unable to believe what he was seeing. Walkers were shuffling through the narrow corridors, attacking vampire, human and demon alike. Demons and vampires were fighting one another just as violently as the humans they were pursuing.

"We need to head north!" Rick called, "Pull in tight! John and Castiel focus your attention on the demons, Sam and Dean pick off the Walkers, I'll get the Vamps. We keep together, we cover and we don't stop moving!"

It was a fucking ballsy strategy, it was exhausting, but it worked. Castiel and John were a seamless unit, flashing gold and blue in every direction as any demon that got near them was burned up. Rick's reflexes and agility made him a suitable opponent for the vamps they encountered, all the while keeping a clear enough scope of the battlefield to tell them where to head next. Meanwhile Sam and Dean relied on their own partnership to pick off the ceaseless risk Walker's presented, shooting down any creeping near the edges. 

As they made it to the centre of the compound, their group ran into another. Glenn, Beth and Tyreese in a similarly tight unit. If they were surprised to see Rick they didn't show it. 

"Daryl?" Rick demanded.

"Gone to get the kids." Glenn answered, chest heaving, "We were heading out to the rendezvous."

"Good. We'll meet you there. Behind us is clear. Keep it that way." Rick commanded.

The three of them nodded and headed in the direction they'd just come from. Rick grabbed John's shoulder. 

"Can you go ahead and grab Carl and Judith? We have a safe house that we agreed to meet at in case of an attack like this."

"Sure." John nodded tightly. 

\--

Carl was pacing the small safe room when John appeared. Unhesitating, Carl shot him. Though it couldn't kill, a bullet between the eyes hurt like a motherfucker and John held up his hands defensively. 

"Ah-fuck-kid!" he cried, bending over as his body disintegrated the bullet, "I'm not your enemy."

"Prove it." Carl commanded. 

John looked up. He had a confident stance, feet placed far apart and a cool, speculative glare that perfectly emulated his fathers. The same fierce baby blue eyes. 

"I'm John Winchester." he pointed to the salt line at the foot of the door, "If I was anything bad I wouldn't have been able to cross that."

"If you're John Winchester, tell me something about my family that only you could know." 

John paused, unsure of what type of response to give.

"I know that your birthday is the 12th of August because when you were three I crashed your party." he paused, he hated to admit his part in encouraging Rick's infidelity, "I was injured, still bloody from a hunt and Rick gave me a telling off like nothing I've ever received before. Then he patched me back up and sent me on my way."

Carl peered at him, then nodded, holstered his weapon, "Alright." he picked up his little sister, "Let's go."

\--

The number of demons as they reached Carl and Judith's hiding spot was increasing. They were impossible to kill, unfairly strong and ruthless. The only thing holding them back were the number of Walkers they could throw in their direction. Navigating the battleground, having to follow instinct enough to know when to kill and when to hold back was starting to take a toll on them both.

Michonne's muscles were groaning with strain and her head was starting to pound. Daryl's breath was coming harder than usual. Vamp, duck, kick, behead. Walker, kill one, throw the second into the path of a demon. Demon, punch, run and hope for the best. It was an uncertain pattern at best, downright dangerous at most.

Michonne lost her footing and went down. A vamp was on her and Daryl reached to tug it away when he felt his body go flying against the opposite wall. Demon. Psychic powers. Cheating son of a bitch. 

"Don't worry." it smirked, "We don't have orders to kill you."

Daryl couldn't move. All he could see was an endless surge of bodies, Michonne on the floor, fighting off the thing going for her neck. The sound of fighting, the low incessant groaning of Walkers and the demands of gun fire rising up, filling Daryl's senses. He wasn't about to die, but he couldn't watch it happen to others. Needed to make sure Carl and Judith were protected. 

The vamp was suddenly kicked off Michonne with such force it knocked the demon holding him against the wall. Slipping back onto solid ground, Daryl collected his machete and beheaded it. Didn't matter if it couldn't keep it down. 

"Rick and the other's are heading this way." the man helping Michonne from the floor stated, "Keep tight behind me and we can meet them back out the other side."

"We need to get to Carl and Judith" Daryl replied, glad that his breathing seemed to be settling a little so he could focus better on his surroundings.

"They're out." John informed them both, "They're safe."

Sharing a relieved glance, Michonne and Daryl nodded, "Alrigh'. Get us back to Rick."

It was slow going, but this guy seemed to be able to take out demons by grasping them, the black of their eyes flickering gold before collapsing to the floor. It allowed Michonne and Daryl to deal with the other threats. Relief was not the word for it when Daryl heard the distinct chant of Rick giving orders from nearby.

Once they had got through the last wave, groups meeting up, Daryl couldn't prevent the surge of elation that broke to the surface, taking over his body. Still holding a knife, Daryl slipped his hand beneath Rick's curls and pulled him in for a kiss, pressing their foreheads together, "You son of a bitch."

Rick grasped his bicep hard, expression full of the thousands of things he couldn't say, instead he turned to the group waiting restlessly around them, "We need to split up and sweep the rest of the compound. Daryl, Michonne, John you're with me. Dean, you take Sam and Castiel. Only head back here when it's clear." 

"Got it."

It wasn't easy, but they seemed to have gotten through the worst of it. The demon's fled, taking the vamp's with them. The Walker's couldn't be entirely taken out, but they could be held back enough for them to start the unpleasant task of counting their dead. Rick rounded a corner, weapon raised and immediately held his hand up for them to stop. Rubbing a hand over his eyes, he took a deep breath and turned round to face Daryl and Michonne. They pulled up straight, recognising that look. 

Stepping by, Daryl groaned, ran his fingers back through his hair, "No! No, no, no."

Carol's body was slumped against a wall, a weapon clutched in her hands. Not that it mattered. It was obvious that her neck had been snapped. Maggie was beside her, eyes wide open, body just as broken. Rick shot the Walker's that were heading towards them and Daryl strode towards Carol and Maggie. Immediately slipped a knife through their temples to prevent them from coming back.

Then he leant back on his haunches, delicately moving Carol's head in his hands. His heart was hammering with something terrible and raw that he couldn't name yet. So he kissed her forehead, murmured, "I'm so sorry." 

Rick gripped his shoulder, "We need to get them out."

Daryl nodded, "Yeah."

Carol was so small in his arms. So light it was almost like she was nothing. Rick treated Maggie's body with uncharacteristic tenderness, his emotions held fiercely in check.

"How good are your senses?" Rick questioned John. 

"Acute."

"There anythin' left?"

"Just Walkers."

"Okay, go find your boys, we're gettin' the hell out of here."

Daryl glanced up, across, something unfortunate snapping into place. John Winchester. Who hadn't taken his eyes off Rick for a single damn second this entire time. Nodding in affirmation, he strode away back into the compound while Michonne stayed, katana raised, listening hard but it was quiet. Just the sound of their breathing, followed soon after by the rapid pounding of feet. Dean and Sam following their father and Cas. Without further word they departed. There was nothing left here to fight for.

\--

The moment they appeared in the farmhouse, there was a shout of relief followed immediately by a scream when they saw who they were carrying. Rick strode forward and lay Maggie out on the table, Daryl following behind and placing Carol beside her. They stepped back and Carl immediately threw himself into Rick's arms, while Daryl pulled Judith from Tyreese. 

The Winchester's and Castiel took a few steps out of this circle. John's eyes burning as he watched Rick hug his son with one arm, his other hand slipped up beneath Daryl's hair as they shared a murmured kiss, foreheads resting together. The intimacy of it took his breath away. 

"We should leave." Sam said in a low voice, his throat thickening as he watched Glenn hold Beth, her tears falling silently while Glenn looked on. Uncomprehending.

"We need to ward the house first." John replied, "The demons could come back."

"I don't understand their purpose." Castiel stated, "Why these people? Why now?"

They withdrew into another room, each of them noting the backup armoury and food supplies that were taking up the hallway.

"Crowley shows up. Tries to talk Rick into joining him then demon's crash his hideout..." Sam chewed his lip, "Crowley wouldn't be dumb enough to threaten his family."

"Not exactly the way to Rick's heart." Dean agreed. 

"Then maybe it's something else." John suggested, "Crowley's control over Hell has been slipping. Could be an opposite faction, looking to take out the competition?"

"Seems possible." Castiel agreed, "But Rick's just a man. I don't understand why they would be so afraid of him they'd do something like this. It seems to be an unreasonable amount of force."

"Demon's ain't famous for subtlety." Dean shrugged.

"Possibly." John looked back through to the other room, Rick was holding his baby girl while Daryl gripped his hand, a low key but significant show of solidarity, "We need to keep Rick away from Crowley."

"You think he'd take the deal?" Sam asked, a little sceptically.

"I think Rick likes the taste of vengeance." was his response, "Come on. Let's make a start."

\--

Daryl stood, slumped in the threshold as Rick said goodbye to the Winchester's. They sky was growing lighter as dawn approached and snow was falling again. Rick pulled Dean and Sam into a quick hug, speaking low and quick. John kept his distance, hands shoved in the pockets of his overcoat. He was handsome, messy dark hair, rugged and intense. Their eyes met. John inclined his head respectfully, but there was the merest hint in the grim line of his mouth that this wasn't finished yet. 

Daryl merely sighed and looked away. Carol was dead. Maggie was dead. Those people they'd agreed to keep safe were dead. He couldn't feel the cold. Couldn't feel much of anything. All he wanted was to crawl into Rick's lap and stay there and sleep for so long he forgot the world they were living in for awhile. 

When they disappeared on the spot Rick returned, slipping rough hands around the nape of Daryl's neck, peering worriedly into his face, "Baby you okay?"

"No." Daryl drew Rick into his arms, "You?"

"Not me that matters." he murmured, pressing his lips against Daryl's, he was shivering, "Let's go to bed."

The rest of the group had pulled together to sleep in the sitting room, but Daryl wanted some distance and it was expected for Rick to do the same. They headed into the old master bedroom. The furnishings were soft. Pale blue bedspread and white walls. There were photos, of the people that used to belong here. Daryl held one up, frowning, as Rick slipped an arm around his waist.

"What the fuck are we doin' Rick?" he asked.

"The best that we can." 

"Best ain't good enough anymore." Daryl put the photo down and turned in Rick's arms, "S'bad enough havin' to deal with Walkers and other humans. What the hell were demons and vampire's doin' chasin' us down as well?"

Rick shrugged and lead him over towards the bed, "I got no idea."

Daryl was pulled down onto Rick's lap, "Bullshit. You always got an idea. Don't lie to me."

"...King of Hell paid me a visit." Rick admitted, casually divesting Daryl of a couple of layers of clothes, fingertips running along the hard planes of muscle, "Asked me to join him."

"Why?"

Rick shrugged, "Don't know. Last demon I saw was sixteen years ago and we smoked that bitch."

"You and John?" Daryl asked, shuffling over onto the bed and dragging Rick on top of him.

"Yeah."

"Thought you said he was dead."

"I thought he was." Rick's lips pressed lightly against Daryl's neck, "I shot the bastard three times. I think he might be unkillable now."

"Well that's comforting." Daryl drawled, sighing as Rick's body warmed into his, arousal building with steady intensity, "He try and start anythin' with you?"

Rick looked up, lips and tongue at work on Daryl's flat stomach, "No."

"Did you want him to?"

"I don't know."

Daryl nodded, slipping his fingers through Rick's dirty curls, "That's the right answer."

Rick eased back up Daryl's body. It started slow. Recent losses stilling their usual brutality. It seemed important to take some time, to reassure one another that they were still alive, still in one piece, despite the world's determination to take them out. Removing Rick's shirt, Daryl's hands moved further down, to slip off his jeans, smiling into the groan of pleasure breathed out against his neck. 

Restraint falling away, Daryl surrendered everything. Let Rick sear his body with proof of their existence. Calloused fingers were working him open, while Rick's hot mouth pumped up and down on his cock, tongue skilfully manipulating the hard flesh. Panting hard, undulating against the sheets as pleasure swept through his body, Daryl managed to groan, "Come on baby. Now. I need you now."

Rick pulled off, looked up, skin flushed, red lips slick and swollen. Holding Daryl's legs open, Rick slicked his cock up with spit and started to ease his way inside. It hurt. The sore burn sending Daryl's mind spinning. Before he'd had time to adjust, Rick pulled Daryl up, one arm wrapped around his waist, the other behind for leverage. All at once he was full, wholly impaled on Rick's cock. Air was pushed out of his lungs. Feeling breathless and weak, all Daryl could do was cling on for dear life as Rick's hips started to move, pumping up into him, pleasure blooming low and hot as his cock strained, pressed up between them. 

The sight of Rick with his head thrown back, slick with sweat and body taut with the pressure of arousal triggered Daryl's orgasm. It hit him hard and he whined low in his throat, grinding deep down onto Rick's dick. Relieved and satisfied as come flooded his ass, hot, sticky and irrefutably real. They were here. 

Body loose and weak, Daryl all but collapsed back onto the bed, still wrapped in Rick. Rick's cock still inside him. Daryl pulled him down, shifted his hips, the loose flutter of pleasure keeping his heart pounding. Daryl needed the feeling. Needed this connection for as long as they could sustain it. Wasn't just about sex. 

Carol was dead. Maggie was dead. 

He took one deep breath and had to cover his eyes as the tears started to fall, "Let it go baby." Rick murmured, pressing their lips together, "Just let it go."

He was so tired of it all. Torn up in shreds. Carol was his best friend. The one who looked out for him back when no one else would. Compassionate and fierce, uncompromising. She'd already lost so much. His chest hurt, his head hurt. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. No one should have to live like this. 

"This needs to stop Rick." he spoke quietly, throat raw from being fucked through his grief, "I can't do this no more."

"I know baby." Rick agreed softly, pulling the kicked off blanket over them both, "I know."

\--

Daryl woke up a couple of hours later, cold and alone. That never happened. Up and dressed at once, he went to find Rick, something a lot like dread making his nerves twitch. 

Ducking in the sitting room, Daryl noted the still sleeping group. Yesterday had really taken its toll. Death was exhausting.

Rick was in the kitchen, fully armed and dressed, looking at the bodies of Carol and Maggie laid out on the table. One hand was gripping the counter behind him, the other raised to his face, one finger curled over his lips as he stared at them, wearing an expression Daryl didn't like. 

"You goin' somewhere?" Daryl accused. 

Rick's eyes flicked across to him but he didn't move, "You should be sleepin'."

"Not much hope of that." he moved through the room, careful not to look at either Carol or Maggie, "They deserve a proper burial."

"And they'll get one."

Daryl tried to figure out what was wrong. Snaking his arms around Rick's waist, Daryl leant in for a kiss, and saw what was wrong with this picture. A chill creeping down his spine, "Rick. Why is the salt line broken?"

Rick squeezed his eyes shut, rested his head against Daryl's, "I can't let this lie."

"What are you talking about?"

Pressing their lips together, Rick breathed, "My soul for the safety of my children and my lover." and he pulled back, "Crowley."

The King of Hell appeared, hands in his pockets, looking expectant, "You called?"

"Can you get me who did this?" he questioned, feeling Daryl's arms tighten around him.

"Rick. Don't." he could feel panic starting to rise, "Baby please. You don't have to do this."

"Yes I can." Crowley answered, a smile spreading across his lips.

Rick pulled Daryl close and kissed him hard, saying against his lips, "I gotta do this." he grasped Daryl's forearms and forcefully removed them from his waist, "I'm sorry Daryl. But I've got to."

"No you don't." he tried to move forward and couldn't, glaring at the demon whose smile only widened into a smirk, "Rick-there's another way."

"No there isn't." he turned to Crowley, resolved, "You've got a deal."

"Perfect." he held out his hand, Rick took it, and shuddered as Crowley's mantle as the King of Hell extended out. Recognising and claiming Rick Grimes as one of its own. Damned. Destructive. 

The last thing Daryl saw before Crowley removed them both from the farmhouse was the bright blue of Rick's eyes slipping out of existence. Replaced by the chilling black endlessness of the pit. 

"Rick-no!"

It was too late. Daryl could move again and they were gone. Groaning, Daryl punched the nearest cabinet door and ground his teeth. Stupid son of a bitch. Stupid, self sacrificing, son of a bitch.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have substituted sex for story in this chapter. A little. A lot.

John was slouched in the library, book resting on his chest as he tried to relax. Not sleep. That wasn't something he really did anymore. As he hardly got tired, it didn't really matter. The best he could do was try and tune down the noise in his head. It was a technique Chuck taught him, easing the mind, making it open, making it clear.

Everyone was sleeping. The bunker was silent, but for the odd rattle of pipes, the creak of old metal. John's breathing slowed. Until a shudder of pain broke across his consciousness. Groaning, John tried to stand, almost fell, when a strong hand gripped his arm.

"Easy." Castiel said softly.

John couldn't see anything. Everything hurt too much. It was like something was being torn from him, flayed from his skin, his soul. Black was seeping through his eyes. John shuddered. He'd know the touch of the Pit anywhere. It's crawling, hopeless mess of pain snaking up through his veins. Holding down, John clung close to what he knew, what he was and shouted when all of a sudden it departed.

Shuddering, raw, John opened his eyes and looked up, at Castiel who was peering at him curiously, "Are you okay?"

"I need to wake the boys." he pressed back against the bookcase, "Now. We got a serious problem."

Castiel opened his mouth, frowned, followed, "I think we should wait."

"Wait?" he spun round, dizzy, and almost fell into the wall, "There's no time!"

Gripping the door to their bedroom, he all but fell through and was convinced he was hallucinating. It was the only excuse for what he was looking at. Because there was no way he'd just walked in on his sons in the middle of some seriously kinky sex.

Dean's wrists were roped up behind him, eyes blind folded, with Sam's hands gripping his hips, directing him down. Mid groan, Sam tipped his head forward and noticed who was suddenly in the doorway. He looked like he was about to complain, to shout, but a dark gleam suddenly entered his eyes and he returned his attention to Dean.

"Come on Dean." his voice was low, "You know what you gotta do. You want it-you gotta take it."

Something in the tone must have set Dean off because all of a sudden he was working harder. John opened his mouth and stepped back, hands up in a gesture of surrender. Sam smirked, then moaned, before suddenly moving. Grasping Dean with one arm and almost effortlessly switching their positions. Dean on his knees. Held up by Sam, who wasn't interested in whether or not they had an audience. Too busy, pushing harder and harder up into Dean's willing body.

John backed out, covered his eyes while Castiel respectfully closed the door, "You knew they'd be doing that."

"I thought that it was highly likely." Cas replied, looking a little guilty.

"Happens all the time." Charlie yawned, shuffling past, "It's like a rite of passage." she patted him on the arm, "Welcome to the fold."

"I think I need to bleach my eyes out." John nodded to himself, "Then my brain."

"Have some coffee instead. It might help." she recommended.

With nothing better to do, John agreed. The remnants of what overcame him earlier were lingering. His head was aching and he couldn't shake the profound sensation of loss. Christ it hurt. Resting his forehead on the table, he listened to the increasingly bizarre conversation between Charlie and Castiel. Something to do with comparing the magic of Oz with the magic in heaven, which spiralled into a discussion on reality versus fiction, and the interference of Hollywood grade production values.

"Hey Sam!" Charlie greeted brightly, "You done wrecking Dean?"

"For now." his voice sounded deep and raw, there was the sound of water being poured, "You okay dad?"

"Not really." he scrunched up his eyes and shuddered again, "Rick made the deal."

"He what?" Sam demanded.

John sat up, peering into Sam's face, "I should have known you were a dom. Dean's a control freak but he knows when to let go."

Sam tilted his head, frowning, peering back until something clicked, "Letting go not something Rick's good at."

"Yeah." John rubbed his eyes, "And now he's gone darkside."

"How do you know?" Sam sat down opposite, "Daryl get in touch?"

"No-I felt it." he struggled to interpret what he was feeling, "I think he took a bit of me with him."

"Right-how does that work?" Sam asked, rubbing his eyes wearily.

"Not sure...when all the crazy settled down and I felt like myself again I found myself drawn to Rick. Assumed it was just because I wanted him again." he sighed, unable to stop himself from prodding that fresh bruise that was swelling in his mind, his spirit, whatever, "Now I'm not so sure."

"You're a god." Cas stated, as though it were obvious, "And Rick is your equivalent of a high priest."

John frowned, "He's my ex. And he shot me."

"Yes." Cas agreed, "Nevertheless you and he share some marked traits. You're both warriors with strong family values and an obsession with vengeance."

John nodded, then wished he hadn't, his brain felt swollen, "Yeah-that's true-but Rick never worshipped me. If anything it was the other way around."

"Soul mates then?" Sam suggested, "If you're supposed to be in harmony-and if you're not as limited as you used to be-maybe that's the difference. You can feel him tearing apart from you."

John paused at that, rubbing his face, "I would love to say yes but heaven matched me with Mary."

"Not necessarily." Charlie said thoughtfully, "I mean sure, you and Mary were matched once but you died and got blasted by God. Maybe he pushed you out of his jurisdiction a little?"

"It's possible." John shrugged, "He was pretty tanked at the time."

Sam sighed and rubbed his eyes wearily, "I don't even understand what Rick could be anyway. Takes time in Hell to breed a demon. Last time I even heard of someone going darkside like that, it was Dean. And he had the Mark. That sort of power that comes from Lucifer directly."

"Maybe Crowley has found a way to siphon off some of Lucifer's influence from the Cage." Cas suggested musingly, "The structures in Hell aren't dissimilar from those in Heaven. Both realms are directly linked to their creators."

"Possibly." John murmured, unsure of that assessment, "I just-I think it might be something more, or something less than that."

"Will we have to kill him?" Sam asked, because that was the bottom line in all this.

John's eyes narrowed, "No."

"Rick Grimes has just become a Knight of Hell. The new Cain if Crowley achieves his ambitions." Sam sat up, ran his fingers back through his much too long hair, "Dad if we can't cure him, we'll have to find a way to kill him. He'll be way too dangerous otherwise."

John assessed his youngest son, "The only person safe from you in this whole damn world is Dean, isn't it?"

"And vice versa." Sam's eyes narrowed, "Don't think I've forgotten your last words."

"I wouldn't expect you to." John said slowly.

"Good." Sam stood up, "I'm going back to bed. We can discuss this in a few hours."

Charlie's eyebrows were faintly raised, and she looked sidelong at Castiel who seemed thoughtful, "This is troubling news. I need to report back." and he fluttered away from his seat. John, pissed off and sick to death of being underground took off as well in a low flicker of burnished gold.

"Well that was fun." she muttered, before getting another glass of water and returning to the library.

\--

Judith started crying and it pulled the rest of the group out of their fractured sleep. Beth took care of her while Daryl stewed, sitting out on the ice cold porch looking out over the endless white horizon as the implications of Rick's departure began to play out in his head.

They were leaderless, but they'd been leaderless before. They'd been ran out of safety, but they'd been ran out of safety before. At least this time they were together. They had food, weapons and transport. The Walkers didn't move well in Winter and that bought them some time.

What he couldn't be sure about was the next stage. Did the alliance with the Winchester's still hold? Would the other's be interested in building a network without Rick driving it? Did it even matter anymore-when they could just hunker down somewhere safe.

Somewhere that clearly needed to be proofed against more than just Walker's. Monsters were in play now. Demons and vamps, and who the hell knows what else. They were out of their depth in this.

"Hey."

He glanced up, as Michonne eased outside, handing him a flask of hot water lightly flavoured with nettles, "Hey."

"You gonna tell me what's happening?" she asked, shivering and settling down beside him.

Daryl blew away some of the steam, "Where would you like me to start?"

"That bad?"

"Worse." he glanced at her sidelong, "Rick's done somethin' stupid."

"It happens from time to time..." Michonne said lightly.

"Yeah but this is monumental." he took a sip of the water, it tasted nasty but it was hot, "He's made some kind of deal with the King of Hell. His soul in exchange for our safety."

Michonne rarely looked surprised but that actually threw her. Eyes widening, she opened and closed her mouth a few times before settling on, "You sure you don't have concussion?"

"Nope." he sighed, rubbed his eyes with one hand.

"So what do we do?"

"...We keep safe and prepare for whatever else is out there, I guess. Not a lot of options here."

"I meant about Rick." Michonne said quietly, leaning in close in case Carl could be around, "What do we tell Carl?"

"The truth. Carl knows his dad better'n anyone." Daryl shrugged.

"So-that's it?" Michonne felt uncertain and angry, "We just give up on him?"

"What the fuck else are we meant to do?" Daryl hissed back, "He's gone somewhere I can't follow!" he ran his fingers back through his messy hair, "All we can do is sit tight. Keep Carl and Judith safe and hope to hell that he has some kind of fuckin' plan."

Michonne eyed him shrewdly, "You think he does?"

Daryl paused and took his time in replying, "I think...I need to believe he does. Because the man I know ," _the man I share a bed with_ went unsaid, "would never make that call without damn good reason."

"Without believing he could come out on top." Michonne concurred softly.

He nodded, "Damn right."

Michonne's full lips spread out into a grin and she knocked Daryl's arm with her shoulder. It was probably inappropriate, their losses were so fresh and their challenges insurmountable. Nevertheless they were allied in this. Their belief and understanding of the man that had dragged them so far, against impossible odds, through sheer bloody minded determination alone. The unnatural levels of charisma had admittedly contributed a little as well.

"So." Michonne stood up, held out a hand to Daryl who took it, the movement breaking through his stiff joints, "Let's go unleash hell."

\--

Dean was in a good mood for all of thirty minutes after waking. They had one complete spell for Aion, were pretty much done with Apollo and were halfway there with Janus. Yesterday he'd gotten to kill something other than Walker's and Sammy had ruined him completely in celebration.

The blowjob he'd just gotten may have also contributed a little.

So yes, all in all it was shaping up to be a good day for Dean.

Until Charlie dropped the H-Bomb.

"What the hell do you mean Rick Grimes has signed up to Hell?!"

Charlie scratched the back of her neck, "That's just what your dad said."

"My dad? When did you talk to my dad?"

She bit the inside of her cheek and tried to keep her voice level, the risk of hysterical laughter was pretty high, "He went to your room."

Dean might have missed the table he was about to lean on and stumbled a little, blood draining from his face, "H-he what?"

Amelia and Aaron drifted in from the kitchen, curiously noting the exchange and taking their usual seats at the table.

Charlie seemed sympathetic, seemed, "Yeah-" she pointed at his face, "he kind of looked like that after as well."

Dean seemed to work that through, before his eyes narrowed and roared at the top of his lungs, "SAMMY!"

Sam, who was busy in one of the store rooms, cringed at how abruptly the sound carried. For a moment he considered hiding and drawing it out, but Dean would only get more angry. So he returned to casually counting out their stock of angel feathers and acting as though he hadn't heard anything. When he stormed into the room, jabbing a finger into his chest, Sam affected an expression of bemused curiosity.

"Yes Dean?"

"Did dad come see us last night?" his voice was low and shivering with anger.

Sam pulled his lips into a frown, flicked up his eyebrows, "Ermm...I don't think so."

Dean's eyes narrowed further, acid strips of rage, humiliation burning on his cheeks, "How much did he see?"

Deciding the game was up, Sam crossed his arms, "Up to when I flipped you."

Dean tilted his head, "You have one chance to explain to me why before I beat you to hell."

Sam stepped into Dean's space, his heat and strength automatically filling Dean's senses, "I did it because I could." he leant over, breathing into his ear, "Because you're mine. Because we were still playing."

Dean swallowed, "It doesn't count. I didn't know."

"Part of the game Dean." Sam reminded, his voice holding that rich, dark tone that drove Dean crazy, "Don't even try to tell me that thinking of it-of dad walking in-seeing you roped up and desperate for my dick doesn't get you hot, because I know it does." he pulled back a little and Dean went with him, couldn't help it, his body was in a constant state of need for Sam, "I know everything about you Dean."

Groaning, Dean leapt into Sam's arms and shoved his tongue down his brother's throat. The force knocked them into a nearby shelf, a couple of jars smashing onto the floor before Sam was able to stabilise. One arm wrapped beneath Dean's ass, the other on his lower back, he carried Dean over to the opposite side of the room. Legs wrapped tight around Sam's waist, Dean arched back onto the increasing hardness of Sam's cock, dimly aware of a table being cleared as sharp teeth nipped at the flesh of his neck.

Shirts had been torn off and Dean's hands were buried in Sam's jeans and they were both already wild with lust when John shouted at the top of his voice, "Stop!"

Dean paused, his mind was buzzing, body taut and aching, "No!"

John covered his eyes, "We need to talk!"

Dean's lips were at Sam's incredibly hot chest and its myriad of overworked and delectable muscles. Groaning, Sam answered on his behalf, "We'll come find you." he hissed as Dean bit down on a nipple, "Thirty minutes."

Growling in irritation, John strode away, heading towards the bathroom. In a spiteful mood, he'd spent the last few hours tracking various monsters in the US and killing them. Some werewolves, a nest of vamps and a couple of wendigo's. Then a mass full of Walker's. Now he was fucking dirty and no less confused and hurt than he'd been before vanishing.

Dumping his clothes on the floor, John stepped under the shower. His nerves were burnt up and raw. Dirt and blood swirled around the plug hole and he grabbed the nearest shampoo to run through his hair. No less tense, but certainly much cleaner, John stepped out and grabbed a towel. Then summoned a pair of jeans and a t-shirt because for some reason that had fallen into his skill set.

"Nice trick." said a slow, husky southern drawl.

Automatically on the attack, John spun round, knife in his fist. Rick didn't move from his position on the opposite wall, hands tucked into his belt, one foot resting back, knee bent. Suddenly John felt his body move way beyond his control. Slammed against the wall beside Rick, who moved gracefully aside, and around.

"Well it's nice to see you too John." he murmured, lips curling.

"How'd you get in here?" John demanded, "This place is warded against demons."

"Assumes I'm a demon." was the response, he tilted his head, curious, "How'd you know that? By my reckonin' I've only been gone a couple'a hours."

"That's a few months in Hell." John growled, "What the fuck have you done?"

Rick didn't reply. Instead John's arms were moved from his sides to above his head. Adjusted not with force, but with something altogether more frightening and suggestive. John looked deep into Rick's blue eyes and just wanted to. The rest of his body shifted, so it hovered further up.

"God suits you John." Rick's voice was getting smokier as he stepped forward, calloused hands slipping up beneath John's black t-shirt, "It's good you finally have an outlet for all that angst." he glanced up, "Nice'n healthy."

John gasped as his nipples were deliberately brushed, "What you here for Rick?"

"A booty call." he flashed a grin, "I got work to do but I need to get this out of my system first." he leant in, "Between you'n me, demon's latch onto weakness."

He didn't smell of sulphur. The spirit burning up against his was dark bright and surging with potential. It was making John's head spin.

"Last I checked you were settin' up hearth and home with Daryl." he spat out, hissing in reluctant pleasure as Rick moved closer, grasping John's thighs, hoisting them up so they wrapped around his waist.

"Daryl's mine." it was spoken with utter certainty, "You, John, are mine." he pressed his lips against the side of John's neck, "You always were."

He wanted desperately to resist. To fight off whatever cast off bit of power Rick was using to keep him here but it wasn't working. This passion had been branded into his soul so long ago its pull was irresistible. So the second Rick's lips neared his, John took them. Kissed back with desperate fervour. Rippled away from the wall so he could wrap his arms around Rick's shoulders and keep him close. As close as possible.

"You know what I've been thinkin' about?" Rick murmured, gently placing John on the floor, face flushed, eyes glowing.

"Not sure I care." he growled, slipping his hands beneath the deep grey shirt Rick was wearing, delighting in the sensation of hot smooth skin against his fingertips.

"Last time we were together."

John frowned and before he really understood what was happening the world around him shifted. It was fast, the transition precise and delicate in nature. John looked around in confusion. Taking in the motel room. The people in it. When he glanced at Rick, he felt his heart all but stop. Blue. The same deep, clear shade of Rick's irises now encompassed his eyes. Clearer, purer than any demon he'd ever encountered.

It made John's stomach flip. It was noticing that colour which triggered his desire, then infatuation, in the first place.

"I suppose you ain't gonna tell me what's wrong."

John's attention moved to the couple on the bed. They'd travelled back. They were corporeal, but just outside the scene they were viewing. Done probably a little more skilfully than John could have managed. Ten years ago. The last place he'd been before he heard about Elkins. Before Azazel and his death. In place of Dean's. One of the few things he didn't regret.

"There's a lot wrong." he heard himself say, on his back, Rick's head resting on his hip.

The room was hot, despite the darkness outside. There was a single lamp on. The room was heavy with sex and semen. Twisted sheets and discarded clothes. Younger, still complicated versions of themselves playing out the end of a love affair that John lacked the dignity to ever truly leave alone.

"Then specify." Rick drawled, rolling over and crawling up the bed.

John-on-the-bed sighed, rubbed his eyes. Looking heavy, weary. The war was winning.

"I recently found out that my son might bring about the end of the world."

Rick-on-the-bed narrowed his eyes lightly, "Literally, I presume?"

"He was chosen, by a demon called Azazel to lead the Legions of Hell. There are others." he looked across to Rick, "But I have this feeling that it doesn't matter."

"It's not certain though." the other Rick's voice was low, but his attention was sharply focussed, "Tell me it's not John because I have a son now and if I find out you could have stopped something disastrous-"

"Rick!" John cried, sitting up, "Please! I don't fucking know alright!" he groaned, "Sammy is my little boy. I don't even know how he could end things. Dean-sure, maybe." he looked at Rick through his fingers, "I don't even mean that. Dean cares so fucking much about the people we save." he huffed, bringing himself under control, "I have to kill Azazel. It's the only way to save them."

Rick-on-the-bed straddled John, taking possession of his body with familiar ease. The Rick at his side moved closer, one arm slipping beneath the material at his waist, fingernails digging into his flesh.

"I got a gift for you." the other John said softly, the warm glitter of his eyes, the contentment and happiness difficult to watch.

"All these years and now you decide I'm worth a gift?" the younger Rick asked, far more playfully than his future counterpart was able. He slid aside, watching as John headed to his bag, indifferent to his nudity.

Current John watched, mouth dry, as the Rick by his side shifted a little so he was standing side on. Pressed entirely against him.

Rick-on-the-bed was keen eyed and cross legged. John handed him a wooden box. Glancing up with a faint smile, Rick took it, delicately lifted the lid and paused. Waited. Before lifting out the Colt Python, resting the barrel against his fingertips.

"Baby you got me a gun." he murmured approvingly, un-tucking his legs, grasping John's wrist and tugging him close, onto his lap.

"Thought it suited you, somehow." John-on-Rick's-lap said quietly, basking in the sensation of his lover against his skin, the gun now pressed against his back as those lips moved from his chest to his lips. He was grasped, flipped onto his back, as Rick ground up against him.

"You were so loose." Rick breathed into his ear, "From where I'd tied you up before. All tacky from lube and come."

John leaned into the touch, twisted round so they could kiss properly. Their past became rapidly tangled with their present. John watched, eyes half open, as the human version of him was held down and taken. Rick pulling up to his knees, locking John's legs around his waist, and pounding in so fast and deep it made his head spin just watching. Let alone remembering.

The bed was slamming rhythmically against the wall. Current Rick had at John's clothes, tearing them off, fingers like claws as he crowded John up against the side table. Nothing was disturbed as he was hitched up on it, jeans cast aside, Rick's slick lips devouring his cock with a hungry groan. Exposed, arching, he felt his blood surge and flare like it hadn't for years. Like it hadn't since the last time.

Tongue running up beneath John's shaft, Rick's throat released a low level growl as he swallowed all the way down, the sensation of it rippling around the head of his cock sending John wild. The prenatural senses he'd developed were singing with a ferocious sort of joy. When two fingers slid artfully into his entrance his control slipped all at once and he came down Rick's throat.

Not that it mattered. He was still hard, still desperate. There was no come down. No time, no interest. His body didn't seem his own anymore. Instead he supplicated himself entirely, begging in long streams of words in a language he wasn't sure he knew for Rick to do it, to take him, to end this untameable need and hunger that was making the very world around them unstable.

"Shhh..." it was a facsimile of comfort, and tenderness, at odds with the three, four fingers driving him open, "Baby I got you."

John tugged Rick down for a kiss, delving deep into his mouth until he tasted blood, its vicious power causing him to twist with need, dark eyes glowing gold as their past shattered around them. John felt himself suspended amid the flickering whirl of unfixed timelines as Rick took control. John was impaled and he'd never, ever wanted anything more.

"Oh fuck!" he scrambled, fingers scraping down Rick's slick back, desperate for purchase, nails leaving deep scores of blood behind, "Fuck-please-please!"

Rick seemed beyond words. Instead he drove back, the world around them stilled for a moment and they were back where they started. Rick's room that first time. A little drunk, seduced by Rick's casual sensuality, his confidence.

Now they were monsters, fucking in the shadow of their history, abandoned and shaped by untameable forces far beyond their control.

"Fff-uck!" John inhaled, back arching as Rick's long fingers wrapped around the head of his cock, moving in pace with his hips, the inside of him aflame with pleasure, "I can't-I can't-"

"Then don't." Rick growled, surging forward, devouring John's lips again.

He couldn't take it anymore. His heart was working too quickly, his body coiled up, every nerve and sinew twisted up with Rick whose relentless assault was systematically breaking down all the barriers he'd created after escaping from Heaven and Hell. The flesh he wore felt too tight as his soul expanded, seeking out the place where they connected.

The second Rick felt that light brush of interest against his mind, his spirit he shouted. Crying out John's name. The pleas, the affirmations running through him in the Unspoken. Words of Hell that carried the sort of power few could harness. It compelled John's second orgasm and he screamed, Rick screamed.

It paled in comparison to any he'd ever had before, as did the other's that followed. For long, long moments he did nothing but spasm again and again and again as his body continued to hunger, continued to recover to seek out more of this infernal ecstasy. Rick's blood burning on his tongue as they writhed together in darkness.

It took time for their sense to return. Rick's lips pressed tenderly against John's temple as he took them back to the bunker. He seemed different from before. Thoughtful, uncertain, as he helped John wash off the proof of their coupling. Ordinary, human things which John needed as his mind and spirit continued to surge, eager to escape from their confines.

Drying John with one of the nearby towels, Rick nudged him, to dress, and he did it without thinking. Sitting down heavily on one of the benches, rubbing his eyes, looking up, "You didn't know that would happen?"

"No." Rick answered softly, tightening his belt, curls damp, beard neater than it had been not long ago. Before he said yes to Hell.

"It mean anything?"

He shrugged, "Don't know. I'm pretty new to all this..."

"What do you instincts say?" John questioned instead.

"...That we just did something impossible." Rick murmured, one hand hitching on the gun at his hip like he always did when looking for reassurance, "It was incredible, and dangerous, and could consume us both if we were to risk it again."

John nodded once in agreement, standing up, stretching, "When you go see Daryl play it safe. If you're powerful enough to hold me back, you could destroy him."

A gleam came in Rick's eye and his lips curled into a warm smile, "I always could...he just trusted me not to."

John huffed and covered his eyes with his hand, "Just be smart and be safe." against his better judgement tugged Rick into his arms, "Hell likes you Rick. And I don't trust it."

"Then trust me." he pressed their lips together, only lightly, before slipping out of John's arms, "Now I really gotta go." his expression grew stern, "John I need you to make me a promise."

"I can't make promises." he crossed his arms, "You know I can't."

Rick peered at him, as the reason why became apparent, "Your nature prevents you."

"Promises are binding and as much as I still love you Rick, you're a devious little shit." he flashed a smile that was only half malice, "You were before you even became a Hell Bitch."

"Nevertheless," he continued, voice smouldering with warning, "whatever you might hear, whatever Heaven suggests, you and your boys need to stay away. Stay out of it. It's the only way you might come out the other side alive."

"That a threat?" John challenged.

"A courtesy-to an old flame." he smirked, expression hard, eyes shifting into their now natural state of clear fearsome blue, "Stay out of it." and with that he was gone, a hiss of cold light lingering for a second in his wake.

Huffing, John sighed, "Well fuck."

Somehow it was suddenly way, way worse than it had been a few hours ago. And he thought it wasn't possible for things to become more of a clusterfuck than they already were. Then John remembered something he once promised himself.

Don't underestimate Rick Grimes.

"Fuck." he muttered again, before leaving to find his boys. If something was coming, the Winchester's were going to be a part of it. They always were. It was the way of things. World stalling to a halt wasn't ever going to change that.


	14. Chapter 14

Things were quiet, for months. Summer arrived. The Winchester's needed to make a few road trips across Walker infested land to find the missing ingredients for their summoning spells, backed up by John and Cas, who had been petitioned by Heaven to keep an eye on things from the ground. 

They kept in regular contact with Rick's, now Daryl and Michonne's group, to make sure they were both ably supplied and backed up. At some point they'd started trading. And keeping contact with the other survivors they encountered-gradually building up the sort of network Rick had told them all they needed to fight for. 

In New Mexico Abraham has found an engineer holding fort with a handful of other survivors, most of whom had been employed at the local electrical plant. They had the ambition and ability, but not the numbers. Soon after Daryl had got in touch and said they had a new plan. The Winchester's drove down to meet them, with Golum and Aaron in tow. Between them all they'd been able to clear the necessary areas to get the first electrical plant up and running since they fell back on basic rudimentary systems. 

In an empty bar, the booze mostly untouched, they had all crowded round a dusty old television. John was leaning against the back wall with Daryl, they were sharing a bottle of bourbon. Waiting. Sam got everything up and running. Most of the channels were blank, a handful of others weren't. There was an ancient news recording telling people to head to Washington.

"Waste of fuckin' time." Daryl muttered under his breath.

John snorted and handed him the bottle back. They glanced at one another sidelong, sharing a smirk. 

Turns out they got along pretty well. Both naturally quiet and observant, they usually hung back and watched while Dean and Abe were busy being alpha at each other. Often quickly taken in hand by either Amelia or Michonne, who had in a very short period of time built up a scary bond. 

John hadn't seen Rick since their magnificent and all consuming fuck. That he still fantasised about in every solitary moment. Daryl never even mentioned his name. His was an absence acknowledged but never discussed. 

It hadn't interfered with a growing sense of understanding and appreciation between them. If anything knowing they shared a lover cleared away some of the unease. They trusted one another when fighting in the wilderness, effortlessly keeping pace and watching each other's backs. John was immortal and mostly unkillable, didn't mean that a Walker taking a chomp out of him didn't slow things down. 

"Wait!" Daryl pushed forward from the wall, gesturing with the bottle, "Go back!"

Sam peered over his shoulder but did as instructed. It was an international broadcast from the UK. On the face of it, a familiar report from one of their statesman. The London skyline. Cold light, a podium, and a man in a suit delivering calm, clear commands. For a moment no one knew what they were looking for, until Daryl shouted, "Son of a fuckin' bitch!"

Then John got it, the same time Glenn and Michonne got it. Just off to the right hand side stood Rick, hands folded in front of him as he watched the speech. Wearing a dark suit he looked way too hot in. When the camera moved off, they lost sight of him. The report moved on. It was a map of the world with a series of spots in red. The US had been almost eliminated. 

Dean spun round, "What the hell's your boyfriend doin' hangin' round with the President?"

"Prime Minister." Sam corrected, almost on reflex. 

"Huh? What?" Dean frowned, shook it off, "Not the point." his eyebrows were raised at Daryl who seemed to have gone inward. Frowning. Working something out.

"He always said he wanted to travel..." Daryl murmured, sipping from his drink, huffing a sigh and relaxing back into the wall at John's side. 

"Cas!" Dean turned to the angel, who was sitting with Beth.

"Yes?"

Huffing, Dean took another swig of whiskey. Sam took the bottle from his fingertips and intimated that he needed to calm down. They had a furious, silent conversation that John didn't even attempt to follow. Instead he looked sidelong at Daryl, who after his outburst seemed to be back under control. If anything he seemed happier. Glenn leant against the wall beside them, arms crossed. He was watching the news channel. Intensely thoughtful. 

"Things have been easier for us since he left."

Daryl handed the bottle to John and lit a cigarette, "Yeah."

Glenn eyed him, "I've noticed that our armoury keeps getting more sophisticated."

"I'd have thought you an idiot if you didn't." Daryl drawled.

"Nothin' to contribute?"

"Nope." he took a long drag of his cigarette, "We're alive. Rick's alive. Not much more to say."

Glenn smiled a little, then grinned, then laughed. After Maggie's death it had been slow going, and he still hadn't recovered. Never truly would. But they took some time in Winter, started moving again in Spring, it helped with the grief. Having a mission and coming to accept that there might be something worth fighting for had helped him come back to himself. 

By nature Glenn wasn't a self destructive person. Happiness came to him naturally and subsuming it beneath rage twisted him into a shape that was preventing his survival. Being forced to hold back from runs and spend some time with Carl, Judith and Ally had helped him heal. They were a gift. Without them, Daryl sometimes wondered what they would be. What they could become.

Without saying anything further, Daryl slipped outside into the cool evening air. After sorting the plant, they'd hightailed to the nearest town. Some one horse dump in the desert, more broken down than where he'd grown up in Georgia. It was a clear night, the stars were out and shining. Indifferent to the world below. He sat down, cigarette burning, smoke curling above his head. The crackle of the TV, subsumed beneath low level laughter and chatter. Could have almost been the time before. 

Closing his eyes stole the moment. Because the second he did he wasn't here anymore, pretending. Instead there was the loss of Carol. Merle taunting him for playing safe and getting comfortable. And Rick, pinning him down, whispering something else while his body conveyed what he meant.

There was a crack on the porch and Daryl snapped his eyes open. John, settling down nearby. Their eyes met in the darkness. 

"Sammy had an idea-about setting up a market. We're down on some of the same things you are, but he reckoned some of the groups we found in Kansas might have what we need."

"Seems decent." Daryl agreed, "Find somewhere neutral. Clear it. Could work."

John hummed softly. Things stayed quiet. They'd had a good day today. Things were looking up. For the first time in a very long time Daryl wondered if turning back the clock was the right thing to do...they could remake the world. Do it better than before. If they kept switching on plants, training the groups they left behind pretty soon they'd have a couple of states they could trust. Send out word. It was about numbers. Making sure enough of their people were distributed so they could hold back the risk of Walkers, quelling rebellion so they could focus on improving things for the majority.

Daryl crushed the cigarette beside him, wondering when he'd started to think along those lines. Before the world ended he'd never even left Georgia. Who the hell was he to think that they could influence this Wild West they were livin' in?

"What's it like in Hell?" Daryl asked, because he needed to know.

John seemed a little surprised, he twisted, so he could see Daryl's face better, "...It's-beyond description."

"I'd like you to try." his voice was low and intense. 

Gnawing on the inside of his lip, John considered carefully before responding, "It's the worst kind of violation. Every single part of you available and responsive to torture." he rubbed his eyes and leant forward, "The funny thing about pain, when you don't have a body, is that there is no respite. Flayed nerves stop feeling. But when it's your soul-it just goes deeper and deeper until there's nothin' else."

Daryl's expression twisted, "I never believed in Heaven or Hell before. Didn' think they had a point when all I wanted was to get by." he looked at John, "Who makes the call? About who goes where?"

"Automated system mainly." John shrugged, sipping from the bottle he'd bought out with him, "God left a blueprint behind before he slipped off the map...but it's not exactly a functioning model anymore." Daryl held out his hand for the bottle, clearly curious for further information, "When it was set up, there were less people and no one was supposed to go to Hell. That was a place he built for Lucifer. Just a black hole outside the glory of Heaven that was supposed to contain him. Make him lament what had been lost. Perhaps trigger the search for redemption and eventually forgiveness."

"Didn't happen?" Daryl asked, listening intently.

"No." he muttered, "God underestimated Lucifer's fury at what he considered to be his Father's betrayal. Lucifer was, is, staggeringly brilliant. Intelligent, fucking proud and ruthless. His family abandoned him over humans, over nothing, and he decided that if God was going to lay claim to the souls destined for his home, then he would take the rest." 

"So he, what? Messed with the blueprint?"

"I think the correct word is hacked." John drawled, "He found a loophole. The souls that didn't accidently meet God's original standards-which are actually pretty low-could be shifted. Collected instead by his Lieutenants. Their job was determine what sort of torture would be most effective to twist these only slightly unworthy souls into the vicious foot soldiers needed to wage war on Heaven." he took the bottle back, "That's why time moves faster in Hell. Lucifer was on a deadline. He needed an army to match Michael's and the sooner the better."

Daryl seemed to think this through carefully, "What are God's standards?"

"He was never interested in worship-that was a Church invention. He created human's because he wanted to see what they could do with freedom."

"Then why invent a fuckin' tree and tell Adam'n'Eve that they could have everythin' but that one single thing? Then punish them for curiosity? It's like he didn' know what he'd created."

"It wasn't a 'Tree of Knowledge'." John explained, "It was just a test. Adam and Eve were new and Chuck was an insecure dad trying to find his feet. He created somewhere he thought would make them happy. Keep them safe, and all of a sudden it wasn't enough for them and he had a hissy fit. Kicked them out." John huffed, he really had way too much in common with Chuck, "Eden's fucking beautiful by the way."

Daryl frowned, noting the diversion, until he took in the meaning and couldn't help but grin, "You been to Eden?"

"It's quiet." he shrugged, "Every now and then Chuck hunkers down there. Sets up a bar. With strippers."

"Strippers in Eden?" Daryl took a deep swig of bourbon, "They hot?"

"They're awesome." John caught his tone and almost groaned when he realised that he sounded just like Dean, "They're mostly elemental spirits, Fae and nymphs that can trace nature back to its source." 

Daryl looked at him thoughtfully, "You been with one?"

"Been with a couple."

"At the same time?"

John smiled, eyes crinkling at the edges, "It was Beltane." 

"Beltane?"

"Pagan festival of the harvest. A celebration of the earth's fertility."

Daryl laughed, "You got wild in Eden? Sounds like the sorta porno my brother would have watched."

"You wouldn't have?"

He paused, a different cast to his features, "Porn was never my thing." Daryl shifted, legs falling open as a cool breeze ruffled his hair, "If I wanted sex, I found it. Never much saw the point in fantasy." 

"Huh." John smiled, acknowledging the suggestion, enjoying it, "Me neither."

A quiet understanding seemed to have settled between them. Interrupted when Amelia strode outside, looking for their input on something strategic. They let it drop and followed in after. Dean was leaning over a map, tracking where they'd been so far and the tame groups of survivors they'd encountered to date. 

"What you need me for?" Daryl growled, flinging back a little more bourbon, "You look like you got it covered."

Dean's attention snapped up, "Someone has to. It's obvious you don't give a fuck that your boyfriend's influencing world politics."

Daryl considered that for a moment, handed the bottle to John, and punched Dean in the face. Dean stumbled, shook his head and punched back. It only seemed to make Daryl angrier and before anyone could intervene they were throwing one another around. Dean dropped Daryl through a table. Daryl kicked out, smashed a bottle round Dean's head. Michonne and Amelia were shouting at them to stop. The engineers were hanging back in disbelief. 

When Daryl tackled Dean to the floor, Sam's temper snapped. He grabbed Daryl's shoulder and threw him back onto the floor, so his head smacked against the bar. Without hesitating Michonne held her katana to his throat, Glenn and Beth cocked their guns, pulling tight around Daryl to protect him. 

There was a low growl from Sam's throat. For a moment John thought he might go for it anyway. Try taking them on out of principle alone. His fury was palpable. Those sweet smiles and good manners disappearing the second anyone threatened Dean. Before John could tell him to stop Sam made a move and Dean shouted, "Sammy don't!"

Sam's fingers gripped the hilt of his gun, one finger tight on the trigger. He was quick. Confident that he could take out both Michonne and Beth before Glenn could fire. 

Dean pulled up and grasped the back of his leg, "Don't. I was an asshole." he groaned, "Had it comin'."

"Too fuckin' right." Daryl muttered, he was lying on the floor, catching his breath.

Sam took Dean at his word and lowered his gun. Helped him off the floor, hands scouting for injuries while Daryl's people did the same for him. He brushed them off, flinching in pain and irritation both. Dean shuffled behind the bar and dug out another bottle. Pulled the cork out with his teeth, while Amelia and Golum put the map back together. Hissing as the alcohol burned a cut on his lip, Dean leant over the bar and proffered it to Daryl. Who took it. Nodding. Point made. 

"Let's do this in the mornin'." Daryl dismissed, waving his hand and shuffling to the back room where they'd dropped their supplies, "It's been a long mother fuckin' day."

"You're a crappy drunk." Beth observed.

Daryl snorted and he tucked her under his arm. She elbowed him in the side and they burst into giggles. Michonne pursed her lips and shrugged. If Daryl was okay, she was okay.

"We got here early. Winchester's on first watch." she stated, pointing at them with her katana, following, as did Glenn. Abe finished his beer and went outside. John's senses locked onto him. 

From early on he'd been conscious of a Abe's perceived power struggle. His increasing distance from the group that had taken him in. By sheer force of personality Rick had managed to make him tow the line, but he didn't respect Daryl and had been silently derogatory of the relationship he'd shared with Rick. Witnessing their affection and devotion had reminded him of what he'd lost and plucked at the irrational hatred that suggested they somehow didn't deserve it. Men shouldn't be together. It was unnatural. It wasn't fair. 

Having to take orders from a fag and a woman was starting to eat away at the thin shadow of sanity he was wearing. Wouldn't take much for the hatred he was nursing to translate into deliberate vengeance and retaliation. 

John couldn't tell for sure if his presence was making things worse. The fact that he could get a clear emotional lock on a man he'd only ever considered from afar suggested yes. Abe's struggle against his own reflex emotions suggested no. Potentially he could nudge one way or another, but he wanted to hold back and see.

Would Rick come, if one of his own people turned on Daryl? Tried tearing apart his family. Or did he trust for them to have it in hand? Abe was big and fucking aggressive. A red headed tank that made up for brains what he had in brute strength. Though that's not who John's money would be on. Daryl had that extra bit of emotional reach, and backup. 

It was a disaster waiting to happen.

"Jesus dad." Dean muttered, hitching up on the bar pulling Sam between his legs, "We turn away for a second and you've already moved onto someone else."

John blinked, "What?"

Sam rested his head back on Dean's shoulder, relaxing back into the arms wrapped possessively around his chest, "Hitting on Daryl?"

He opened his mouth in astonishment, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Dean smirked and pressed his lips against Sam's cheek, a natural reflex he couldn't hold back, "Nothin'. Just glad you're movin' on. That's all." 

John raised an eyebrow, "Shut up Dean."

"Not movin' on then?" Sam asked.

Aware of his audience, sick of his sons acting like children and trying to embarrass him, John snatched the bottle Sam was drinking out of and pretty much challenged, "When you have sex with a guy that can tear apart reality at whim, you try movin' the fuck on."

Dean tightened his arms around Sam and leant over, "What?"

John cringed, he used to be better at keeping secrets, "Ermm..."

"Tear apart reality?" Sam repeated, "Really?"

They both looked expectant and almost pissed off, "Alright-so-maybe I saw Rick awhile back...and maybe he fucked me within an inch of my life against the backdrop of our own history."

Suddenly Cas was at his shoulder, "Demons can't move through time."

John almost jumped, almost, "It wasn't like we'd travelled back, as such. We were witnesses."

"Hell doesn't have the ability to do that! Demon's are a fixed point in Creation-they can't be undone!" his blue eyes were wide and worried, "You should have told me this John."

John swung round, "And give Heaven more of a reason to go after him?"

"We can't track him!" Cas cried in annoyance, "There are definitely demon's topside doing something but we can't trace them anymore. Not like we used to. Knowing he can do that changes things!" and he vanished, in a ruffle of pissed off feathers.

"You lost yourself a fan there." Dean observed, holding out his hand for more whiskey.

"Like I give a fuck what Heaven thinks." John muttered, handing the bottle over, eyeing them both, "You're both way too comfortable in front of me."

"Probably." Sam agreed, a small smile flitting across his lips as Dean nuzzled his neck, "When did you see Rick?"

"A few hours after he went missing. He'd already been in the Pit for a few months." he leant against the bar beside them, arms crossed, "I really have no idea what he can and can't do. It's...worrying."

"Yup." Dean agreed, "At least we know he's not gunning for us. Which is progress."

Sam snorted and twisted round to steal a kiss, "Next time he drops by-let us know." 

He drew away from Dean who duly followed, adding, "Just don't fill us in on the 'fucked me within an inch of my life' stuff. Yeuch." he pulled a face and took up his coat and gun, heading out onto the porch with Sam to take first watch. 

"I think it sounds hot." Amelia shrugged, putting up her feet and sipping from a beer, "Put the TV back on. I want to see if anything else is happening out there."

\--

Gripping his gun, Carl swung round into the room he shared with Judith. He paused. There was a lamp on in the corner, and his dad was there, holding Judith in his arms. She seemed happy, grinning up at him while Rick pulled funny faces back at her. 

Holstering his gun, Carl stated, "You've been gone for months."

"I know." the low, soft tones of his voice were far more comforting than Carl would ever admit to, "I'm sorry."

"You don't seem different." Carl observed, "Apart from the suit."

"Itches like hell." he muttered, kissing the side of Judith's head, "You been okay? Anyone suspicious been around?"

"No. Not so far." he flashed a small smile, "Well apart from you."

Father and son held one another's gaze. Carl searched Rick's face, for signs of anything demonic. Unnatural. Like he'd been warned. Nothing seemed obvious. The only suspicious thing was how well he looked. Dark curls trimmed back a little but still long, almost clean shaven, too well dressed by far. A healthy glow on his cheeks, blue eyes bright and sharp as they'd always been. 

"You look good Carl." Rick observed softly.

"You too dad. Seems being damned suits you."

Rick shrugged with one arm, didn't elaborate. It was difficult to feel threatened. What no one seemed to understand, especially the Winchester's, was that Carl had witnessed the very worst of his father first hand. His rage and despair. Blood soaked and broken. Carl had watched him tear a man's throat out with his teeth and gut the asshole that had tried to rape him. He accepted and understood that Rick savoured the violence, because it served a purpose. It's not like there was a lot around to be happy about anymore. Might as well take your kicks where you can find them. 

"I'm glad you're okay." Rick said softly.

Carl nodded, then strode forward and hugged him. There was a relieved huff of air in his ear, an arm wrapping tight around his shoulders. He still smelled the same. Musky, a low tang of iron from blood, guns or both. It was comforting. Seeing his dad was comforting.

"I've missed you dad." he pulled back, "It's not been the same without you."

"I know. I've missed you both too." he kept a hand on Carl's shoulder, "I bought some stuff for you all."

Keeping Judith in his arms, he reached round and placed a bag on Carl's bed, "Weapons?"

Rick shrugged, "Figured you'd appreciate it more than video games."

"Our lives are so screwed up." Carl sighed, pulling out a knife that had runes carved on the side, "What's this?"

"Kills demons."

"I thought you were their boss or something?"

"Doesn't hurt to be prepared." he sat down, placing Judith on his knee, slipping a hand in his pocket and removing a small band of silver, "Winchester's ever tell you anything about the Colt?"

"Gun that kills anything?" Carl questioned, noting the crossbow bolts at the bottom as he removed a silver glock, with unusual carvings a lot like those on the knife, "You got us one of those?"

"Got you a bunch." he slipped the silver band on Judith's wrist, "Updated the model a little. Revolvers look cool but automatics are better."

"This what you been doin'?" Carl asked, carefully drawing out a long silver blade, "This for demon's too?"

"Angels."

"Why would angels be after us?"

"They can't find me and they're gonna get desperate pretty soon." he kissed Judith again, "There are two. Give one to Daryl and the other to Michonne. Make sure that when they carry them, they stay concealed. Forearm works best."

Carl shifted the supernatural armoury further up the bed so he could settle down to next to his dad, "Why don't you give it to him yourself?"

"...That's not really a good idea right now."

"I think Abe wants to kill him."

Rick peered at his son, "What makes you say that?"

"Because he thinks he's a fag." Carl muttered, his dislike evident, "He's been talkin' lately, undermining the calls Daryl and Michonne have made. He thinks 'cos I'm a kid that I'm stupid and don't realise what he's up to."

"Anyone sympathetic?"

"Of course not, but I think that's makin' it worse."

"I always thought he was a wild card." Rick said thoughtfully, "But he was useful."

"He was scared of you." Carl said, taking his little sister's hand, running his thumb over the bracelet she was wearing, "He's not so scared of Daryl."

"Daryl noticed?"

"Sure, but he hasn't decided what to do yet. Without you around we're down a killer instinct."

"Sorry 'bout that." his apology was genuine, Carl could tell, "I'm doin' everythin' I can to keep y'all safe...but it's complicated."

"It can't ever go back, can it?"

Rick jogged Judith on his lap, "I don't know. All I care about right now is upholding my side of the bargain, takin' things a day at a time."

Carl raised his eyebrows, "If that were true you wouldn't have dropped by here with a bag full of weapons that can kill anything. I know you're up to something."

Rick's lips twisted in a smile, blue eyes sparkling with amusement, "Even if that were true, I wouldn' tell you anythin'."

"I know." he reached back and pulled out the glock, "I just don't want you to get in so deep, you can't ever come back."

Rick ran his fingers through Carl's hair, like he used to do when he was little, gently pulling him over, murmuring, "I know where I belong, and I know what's important. You gotta trust that."

"I do." he looked up into Rick's eyes, his expression clear and focussed, "I've never doubted how much you love us, or how far you're willing to go to keep us safe. You've proved that again and again."

"Good." 

"I just don't want you to loose yourself in the process."

Rick nodded, "Okay."

Carl nodded back, "Good."

Glad that they had an understanding, they spent the rest of their time together catching up. Carl filled Rick in on what had been happening since he left. Turns out Rick had been keeping an eye on things from afar, but there were some finer details he was missing. He seemed happy to hear that they'd all but merged with the Winchester's. 

"John'n'Daryl are gettin' pretty close." Carl observed looking at Rick from the corners of his eyes, his smile more than a little sly. 

"Are they now?" Rick smiled back, "Good for them."

"You seriously don't care?" Carl asked in disbelief.

They were sitting on the floor, Judith playing between them, "My love life don' really take priority at the moment Carl."

"It still amazes me you and Daryl even found time to get together." Carl muttered.

"S'not like it started romantic." Rick said softly, grinning at Judith as she tottered towards him, shoving a cuddly toy in his face.

"Did it overlap with mom?" Carl asked, because he'd been working on the timeline and he was sure that it had to have started back at the prison. 

"No." he answered seriously, "It was after."

"How soon after?"

"When he was taken by the Governor I was angrier about it than I shoulda been." he glanced up at Carl, "And I was furious when he chose Merle."

"He didn' choose him for long."

Rick smiled, blue eyes softening for once, "No he didn't."

The door downstairs was banged on. Carl waited. They did it again. Sighing, he looked at his father regretfully, "They're back."

"I know." he stood up and handed Judith back to Carl, gripping his shoulder, "I got something else for you."

He pulled out a small box. There were two rings resting in it, with carvings similar to the one on Judith's wrist, "One for you, one for Daryl. Anythin' happens, you hold this tight and call my name. Don' matter where I am, I'll hear you."

Carl took the rings, "Thanks dad."

"Stay safe." he pulled Carl into a hug, "I'll be back soon."

"You better." Carl threatened. 

Then he vanished on the spot, in a brief flicker of blue. Judith on his hip, Carl jogged downstairs to let Tyreese and Gabriel in. They dropped their bags on the floor, apologising for being away for so long. The salt line and devils traps in the hall seemed untouched. So his dad wasn't a demon yet. Good. They still had time.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally had no idea when I started this that I'd hit such a high word count, BUT, this is definitely leading into the closing act. 
> 
> Thanks everyone whose made it so far!
> 
> Gratuitous sex and badassery ahead.

Daryl was used to things goin' to hell. It's what happened. Only this was way, way worse than he could have imagined a few hours ago. Set up a market in South West Kansas, clear out a town, send out word. Do some trading. Seems he'd forgotten at some point that people were assholes and now they were all being held at gun point while some dick tried to steal their stuff. A dick that a day ago he would have called friend.

Dean's eyes were narrowed and his skin was an unpleasant shade of red. They should have seen this coming. He couldn't believe they'd been dumb enough to trust humans like this. In fact the only person that looked more pissed off than Dean was Carl, whose cold blue eyes hadn't shifted from Abe since the moment he'd turned on them.

Seems he had plans to set up an empire of his own a state across and had been working on people behind their back. One of the groups they'd met in Colorado had backed them all into one part of the square, a few of their people had taken the advantage and were watching things from the rooftop, viewing the thirty or so people below through rifle sights.

"You don't stand a chance." Carl informed him, indifferent to the gun's pointed in his face, "You know that right?"

"You don't know what you're talkin' abou' kid." he replied cheerfully, heaving a box of ammo into the back of a van.

"I know you think you can do better than my dad." his hands were resting on his hip, fingers twitching where a gun used to be, "And I know that as soon as he finds out what you've done, he'll tear you apart."

Abe paused and looked over at Carl, his expression cool and arrogant, "Sorry to break it to you, but your dad is long gone."

There was a massive crash and Abe jumped back, blood pouring down the sides of the van. Everyone started shooting at one target. A second later their weapons were snatched out of their hands by an invisible force and thrown in the direction of Carl's people. He grabbed one immediately, throwing another to Daryl who strode forward. Ready to take over when Rick hopped gracefully off the van.

Abe paled, stepping backwards, "What the hell?"

"You shoulda listened to Carl." he smiled unpleasantly, sauntering forward, "Nobody turns a weapon on my son and survives it."

Rick's eyes shifted to full blue and he shot Abe in the heart. Which is when everything really went to hell. About half of the people behind them suddenly changed stance, eyes glowing white, one woman immediately shouting out a series of orders in Enochian. Daryl found a knife at his throat. As did Carl, who was lead forward, gripped too tightly across the front.

"Oh come on!" Dean shouted, "Your seriously gonna do this!"

He went to move forward, but an angel pressed the blade harder against Carl's throat, shouting urgently, "No you don't! Stay the hell back!"

Rick kept the Python at his side, expression cool, "Get your filthy hands off my son."

"Pretty rich coming from the guy running the Pit." sneered one of the male angels, who was holding back the Winchester's as the other angels started to fan out around the square. It was unclear how serious they were about the hostages. Rick was the focus of their attention.

Michonne and Tyreese had found themselves taken as well, shoved forward beside Daryl and Carl who were communicating silently. Keeping their cool.

"Now who could have told you that?" Rick questioned softly, pressing a hand against his heart and adding emphatically, "I am loyal to my King."

"Bullshit!" hissed the woman holding Carl, "You broke into Heaven! You need to tell us how-now!"

Rick tilted his head a little, observing the ten angels that were tightening into a circle around him, their silver blades glinting in the light.

"I'm going to give you one chance to step away from my family." he said quietly, "It's not in my interests to start a war with Heaven."

"The war has already begun." sneered the man holding Michonne.

Rick shrugged, "I warned you."

He fired at the woman holding Carl. She died on the spot. Sam and Dean stared at one another in disbelief. That shouldn't have been possible.

Next thing they knew the angels were pulled off their hostages and Rick was in the centre of a brawl with a bunch of angels who he was simultaneously shooting dead or flinging around with bitchin' psychic powers. Daryl tugged Carl close and they ran through the chaos to get the weapons that Abe had taken from them when this clusterfuck had started.

"Oh no!" one of the angels made a grab for Daryl, who turned quickly, shoving the blade Rick had left him directly through its heart. It had been strapped to his forearm since the day it had been delivered. He watched as its eyes flickered blue before light burst out the vessel. Daryl dropped the body and ducked when Carl shouted, taking out the second angel that attempted to get close.

"Here!" Carl tossed one of the glock's to Dean while Daryl threw Sam a blade. Their disbelief suspended now that they were prepared, pulling together and watching as the demon's Rick had summoned tore through the angels.

"What the fuck man..." Dean murmured, everywhere he looked the angel's were having their asses handed to them. There were only seven demons, but they were strong and organised. They had Rick's back, listening to his commands and anticipating others.

"Stop!"

Castiel appeared in the middle of the battle, but he was too late. Rick's orders were absolute and moments later all the angels were dead at his feet. The demon's immediately fell in behind him. Completely silent and obedient. It was scary, and weird.

"I know it sounds childish," Rick started, holstering his weapon, "but they really did start it."

Cas's mouth was open in disbelief, "You should not have done this."

"You shouldn't have threatened my family."

"They won't take this lightly!" Cas cried, "This is an act of war! Are you aware of that?!"

"It's not my war!" Rick shouted and his voice echoed through the square, he pointed at Castiel, "It's yours!"

Castiel felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, "There will be complete and utter destruction."

"Then you make them understand." his attention drifted to the right, lips quirking, John had arrived for the party. There was no recognition when their eyes met, he just looked pissed off.

Rick's eyes narrowed a little as rage pulsed beneath his skin, attention shifting back to the only angel left standing, "If any of you lay a single finger on my family again, I will lay waste to Heaven." it was spoken quietly, the demon's behind him standing taller at his words, "We will tear apart your armies and leave nothing but an empty throne behind."

"You can't do that!" Cas insisted, "As in literally. Demons can't enter Heaven!"

Rick's smile was enigmatic, before he picked out his son standing to the side, paying avid attention to everything that was taking place, "Carl."

"Yeah dad?"

"You good?"

"Yeah."

"Great. I gotta go before the angels do something dumb like call for re-enforcements." his eyes fell on Daryl and there was a slight softening of his expression, "See y'all soon." and with that he and his demon's vanished.

"...Errm-" Sam genuinely had no idea where to start, "So you guys have got an armoury that can kill anything?"

"Gift from my dad." Carl shrugged, glancing at Michonne as she pulled him into a one armed hug.

"Didn't think to mention it?" Dean demanded, fingertips running along the runes engraved on the barrel.

"Keepin' quiet was implied." Daryl stated, taking in the chaos that had been left behind. Abe plus fourteen dead angels. Their blown out wings etched on the concrete, "You think they'll come back?"

"Let's not take the risk." Michonne muttered.

Together they worked through the bodies. Tyreese and John set about calming down the other groups that had agreed to meet them and sending them on their way. The day was overcast and cool. Quiet now, but it wouldn't stay that way for long. With the noise they'd made, it was only a matter of time until a herd headed their way.

"Cas-how likely is retaliation?" Sam asked quietly, watching Carl and Daryl sort out the weapons that had been left behind.

"Highly." he huffed, sighed, big blue eyes wide and upset, "How could he do this? I don't understand."

"I think we got our first taste of what the Knight's of Hell can do." Dean growled, "Fuck! It nearly cost us everythin' takin' out Abbadon. Let alone eight of the fuckers-and who knows how many more!"he turned on John, "And where the hell were you!"

"Finishing your goddamn spell. It's good to go, by the way."

He blinked, "Oh."

"Yeah. We should take Rick's people back to the bunker with us for awhile. If shit's about to hit the fan, we'll be better off together."

It was a solid argument. It took a little persuasion but in the end they agreed to come. John sensed they were on the clock and offered some godly shortcuts, but they had food and weapons that needed transport as well. In the end they agreed to let John be back up as they gathered what they needed. Cas returned to Heaven, while Sam and Dean prepared their summoning spells. This shit had to end, and soon.

\--

The group was supposed to be settled in and sleeping. It had been another long ass day and they were all worn thin. Unable to rest until he was now completely exhausted, Daryl wound up pacing the bunker. It was old, underground and he didn't like it. There weren't enough exits and he hated not knowing when the sun was going to rise.

He found John in the library with his feet up, sipping from a glass of whiskey. Most of the lights were out.

"You okay?" John asked, as Daryl helped himself to some booze that was probably way older than he was.

"No." he threw back one drink, then another, though it only set his pulse racing even more. He circled round the table. John watched, fascinated by the storm of energy that was gathering around him.

"You're pretty tense."

"Damn right I am." he muttered.

"...You don't sleep properly without him around anymore." John said softly.

Daryl spun round, blue eyes narrowed. They didn't mention Rick. It was one of the unspoken rules.

"What's it to you?"

John held up his hands in a gesture of innocence, "Nothing. Just an observation."

He seemed to accept that and resumed his pacing, while John just sat and watched. Until his nerves couldn't take it anymore. Jumping up from his seat, he caught Daryl mid stride, "Seriously-what'll calm you down?"

Next thing he had an armful of hunter as Daryl pounced him. Initially John was too stunned to react, but the second there was a bite at his lip his brain came back on line. He started kissing back, palms of his hands skimming the hard muscles of Daryl's body. The power in his arms was incredible. They wound up on the table, almost undressed, Daryl's legs wrapped around John's waist, lips working at the muscles on his chest when he felt the familiar caress of a hand down his back, fingers following the trail of his spine.

"Don' stop on account of me boys." Rick's breathed, lips pressing against the underside of Daryl's jaw, "This is just about the hottest thing I ever saw."

"You're an ass." John growled, grasping the back of Rick's head and tugging him in for a kiss, "What the fuck are you doin' here?"

He smirked, grasping them both by the arm and dragging them way out of the bunker, direct onto a luxurious king sized bed in a slick, modern looking room. The right hand side was constructed entirely of glass, but the view was hidden in darkness. There was only one lamp on in the corner casting everything else in shadow. It was minimal, with a few select designer pieces of furniture.

"Nice room." Daryl commented.

"Serves its purpose." he dragged Daryl into a kiss, one arm wrapped around John's neck, tugging him close for another.

"We're not in Hell right?" Daryl asked suspiciously.

Rick grinned against John's lips, "No, we're not in Hell."

"Good. 'Cos once I said I'd follow you there and I think I mighta changed my mind."

Rick burst out laughing, he twisted round so he could admire Daryl more closely, gently running his fingertips along the sharp angle of Daryl's cheekbone, "Baby I've missed you."

"John's right. You're an ass." he retorted, "You any closer to securin' your fuckin' vengeance?"

"Yeah." he answered honestly.

"Good." he shoved Rick down onto the bed and straddled his hips, "Now I'm bored of talking about this shit. Can you just fuck me?"

Rick's eyes became hooded, his red lips widening into a leer, "It would be my pleasure."

John sat back for a little and just admired them. Their body types were so different. Rick was the most slender person here, flat, taut lines of muscles and sharp, sexy hips. John and Daryl were bulky, wide shoulders, big arms. Nevertheless he was in charge. Daryl and John both felt it.

While his mouth was busy relearning Daryl, Rick's hand was gripping John's thigh, moving up to find his arm, fingers, clasping their hands together and tugging him close. John met Daryl's lips first, melting into his body as Rick rose up on his knees between them. Lips to John's neck as his hands moved down to caress their cocks, his deft, skilled fingers bringing them both back to full arousal with a few tugs.

Groaning into Daryl's mouth, John sought out Rick's lips, Rick sought Daryl and the three of them slid into a filthy three way kiss. Too many tongues and lips getting tied up together, hands shoving, roaming, feeling. Getting a sense for where this was going next, what they wanted to happen next.

"Take the rest of your fuckin' clothes off." Rick growled, slipping out of their arms to tear off what he was wearing. The blood splatter from earlier gone. He'd changed in the meantime.

Daryl and John obediently kicked off their jeans and boxers. Rick grasped some lube, warming his fingers with it before shoving Daryl on the bed and swallowing down his dick, fingers sliding up his ass seconds later.

John's mouth went dry. Rick paused and looked over his shoulder, "Don' just sit there John. Make yourself useful."

"You're still a bitch in bed." he muttered, grasping Rick's thighs and settling in behind him, "Good job I like you."

"Baby you wouldn know what to do without me." he opened his legs in invitation, smirking, before sinking his lips down onto Daryl's cock. Humming in delighted pleasure when John's tongue delved deep up into his ass. The sensation was incredible. His nerves started singing and John's reacted in turn. Daryl's legs came up around Rick's body, one leg rubbing against his hard on, writhing, releasing the sexiest, filthy sounds as Rick brought him back to life from the inside.

"You're so fucking tight." Rick rasped, slipping between Daryl's thighs, tongue slipping in alongside his fingers, "I can't wait to be back inside you Daryl." he arched and groaned when John hit him just right, one hand slipping between his legs to tug on his dick, "To ride you so hard you'll forget everythin'. What year this is-" he shuddered, muscles tightening as his arousal went up another sudden, violent notch, "what your own fuckin' name is."

"I don' care what it is now!" he cried, groaning, "Please Rick-just do it-please."

John's lips were at Rick's neck, biting the flesh, panting as his cock throbbed, leaking with precome and painfully hard, "What he said."

Rick reared back against the dick he could feel pressing up against the crack of his ass, "Yes! Fuck-John you better-"

Grabbing the base of his cock, John wrapped one hand around Rick's waist to hold him steady before thrusting in. Rick shuddered, panting hard, looking down at Daryl who was flushed pink and laid out, waiting, biting his lip as he watched John pull out a couple of times before shoving straight back in.

Grasping Daryl's thighs, Rick leant over, tongue tracing the circle of Daryl's nipple as he lined his dick up and gently eased into his pliant body. The first couple of rings of muscle resisted a little, before he could break through entirely. The second he was seated Rick and Daryl both groaned. The sensation felt unusual after such a long time apart. They rested their foreheads together, just breathing, readjusting, and John felt a shift in Rick's energy. The last time they had been together their natures had clashed. Their inhumanity tearing out of them at an unstoppable rate. This was different. Somehow Daryl was holding Rick back, calming his blistering fury.

Reassured that nothing would happen, John started up again. He couldn't help it. Rick pulled up, resting his head on John's shoulder, seeking a kiss, and together they started to move. Settling into a rhythm, push, pull, provoke. After awhile they all lost track of who was responsible for what. It all became noise and heat, caught up in the ever rising spiral of pleasure.

Rick came first. It was impossible for him not to. He had a passion for John's cock and Daryl's ass that made holding back pointless. John and Daryl came a beat behind. Rick's shameless display pushing them both over that narrow edge.

"Holy fuck." Daryl was drawing in breath rapidly, groaning as Rick pulled out.

"Yeah." Rick mumbled, nudging him over so John could fall at his back, hips shifting against John's still semi hard dick, "I seriously needed that."

"You've got issues man." Daryl muttered, moving onto his back so Rick's head could rest on his chest.

"Sex and violence." John agreed, pressing his lips to Rick's shoulder, one arm stretched out so it pillowed Daryl and Rick.

"Kept both ya satisfied enough." Rick grumbled.

"That's neither here nor there." John retorted, "Oh, and please don't tear apart Heaven just to make a point. It'll fuck up most of the afterlife."

Rick shrugged, "I ain' here to talk about work."

"Sociopath." Daryl muttered, shifting Rick's head so he'd take pay attention and come kiss him, because moving wasn't happening at just that moment, "And John's right. Whatever game you're playin', no way it's worth screwin' up shit like that."

Rick listened, his expression serious, "Heaven's bullshit Daryl. A computer programme where the best you get is a repeat of your own life. People deserve better'n that."

"Baby," Daryl's voice was gentle, he slipped his fingers through Rick's hair, recognising that burning anger a thousand times over, "you can't save everyone."

"I have to try." he said softly.

"No you don't." John interjected, glancing at Daryl to make sure he wasn't overstepping, but he seemed grateful to have backup, "Rick you've always tried...imagine what woulda happened if you didn't have that drunken night with Lori when you did."

"No Carl." Rick murmured, settling down between them.

"Not just no Carl. No you." his lips worked across the soft skin at the back of Rick's neck, tasting the hot tang of his flesh, "You would have worn yourself into nothing and got killed in some fucking stupid firefight."

Daryl worked back a few years, settling on when Rick showed up, "Weren' you in a coma when this thing happened?"

"Hmm..." Rick was getting distracted by John's caress, Daryl could feel him growing hard again, "Yeah. Why?"

"We've seen hoards of Walkers walk through something just by crowding up against it enough..." he looked over at John, "You were there, right? At the start? Watchin' over him?"

John's lips paused at Rick's neck, dark eyes glancing up, "...Yeah."

Rick twisted round to face him, "What?"

"You were alone and the world was ending. Of course I was there."

"Your boys?"

"Are used to shit like this happening." he shrugged, "You were vulnerable-they weren't."

"Huh." he seemed to take that on board for a moment, before rolling John onto his back, pinning his hands up above his head, "That's hot."

"You're a slut." Daryl remarked, stretching out and yawning, "Don' mind me. I'll be ready in a minute."

"You better be." Rick growled, before burying his teeth in John's neck and rolling his hips down against the hard cock pressed beneath him.

The rest of the night was consumed by Rick's desire to push them both to their limits. In the past Daryl and John had accused him of insatiability, but their night together demonstrated just how far and deep that hunger ran. Rick watched Daryl fuck John, playing with his ass and balls while leaning over to suck John down. He fucked John while Daryl ate him out. Took things to the extreme by daring them to penetrate him at the same time.

Offering up his arms to invisible bindings, Rick had opened his body out, John taking him from behind while Daryl gradually lowered him down from the front. Rick's lean body was pliant between them both, immobilised, stretched out to impossible limits, skin flushed pink, slick with sweat and semen. As John pulled out, Daryl pulled him down and further in, the feeling of his cock rubbing against John's as Rick's body kept them entwined together was one of the hottest, most intimate things he'd ever experienced.

All the while Rick writhed, panting, crying out in ecstasy as they broke him down bit by bit. Kissing each other, kissing Rick, slip sliding in this delicious push, pull, drop, tease that was making them all completely senseless.

"Touch me, please!"

As one, Daryl and John grasped Rick's dick and started to stroke. His body knotted up in the most terrific spasm, bucking up against them both as the bindings kept his arms restrained above him. Noise replacing words, the ripples of his body, sharp hips and clenching ass muscles defeated Daryl and John. They climaxed almost in unison, Rick exploding between them once, then twice when John attempted to move and pull out. With a small roll of his wrist the bindings faded and Rick collapsed bonelessly back onto the bed, sheets long since twisted up and forgotten.

"Jesus." John pulled Rick to his side, catching Daryl's eye as he curled up on the other side. He seemed just as blown away by the experience.

Rick didn't answer, didn't say anything apart from hum in sleepy agreement. Muttering a spell, the sheets dragged themselves up from the floor and draped across them all. Neither of them assumed that Rick was done with them, precisely, but his quiet was encouraging. Daryl was only human, and he'd been tired before any of this started and as usual Rick sleeping was cue for him to do the same. John closed his eyes, listened to their steady breathing and steady heartbeats, letting his mind drift somewhere cool and dreamless while he waited for his body to recover from its unexpected but much needed exertions.

\--

Morning had broken by the time Daryl and John came round. Rick wasn't in bed, but they could hear a shower on nearby. Groaning, Daryl hid his head beneath the pillow. John snorted, rolled over as though to drag Daryl closer and suddenly stopped. Unsure of what the rules were when they were alone. Overnight the sheets had gotten pushed down and his eyes were drawn to the extreme scarring along Daryl's back. He'd noticed last night, but they were more dreadful to look at without any shadows left to conceal the worst of the damage.

Sensing John's unease, Daryl shoved the pillow aside and squinted at him, "You're allowed to touch."

"You sure?" John was surprised that his throat still felt raw.

There was a slight, playful curling of his lips, "Yeah I'm sure."

John grinned, relieved, and slipped a hand up Daryl's back, fingertips tracing the marks that had been left behind, "I hope the asshole that did this got what was comin' to him."

There was a slight hardening of his expression, "Asshole did."

Leaning in, they shared a soft, lazy kiss. From behind them came a distinctly sarcastic, "Ah-hem."

Twisting round, their eyebrows shot up at the figure sitting cross legged in an armchair next to the window. Daryl's eyes widened a little as he took in the New York skyline. Looked just as bombed out as Atlanta.

"Sorry to interrupt boys, I was just looking for my General." Crowley twisted round to the bathroom, and shouted, "Who is late-again!" he settled back to face John and Daryl, "For a very important meeting."

Unsure exactly what they were supposed to do, John and Daryl settled for sitting up in the bed and staring out the King of Hell who seemed amused by their presence. To say the silence was awkward would probably be the understatement of the century.

"I'm impressed you know." Crowley said, leaning forward, eyes fixed covetously on John, "Getting out of Hell-sure-everyone wants that. But breaking out of Heaven? What does it take to make you Winchester's just lie down and accept the inevitable?"

"Nothin'." John muttered, running his fingers back through his hair, "We're stubborn assholes."

Crowley's lips turned down thoughtfully as he thought that through, "You are indeed." his gaze shifted to Daryl, smirking, "And I'm beginning to understand what he sees in you..."

The shower flicked off and Rick strode out of the bathroom, a towel draped loosely around his waist, muttering casually as he pulled open a draw, "You threaten them I'll end you."

Crowley sat up straight, the gravel in his voice aggravating John's delicate senses, "You're aware that this building is supposed to be a compound?"

"It is." he tore the towel off his waist and used it to catch some of the water dripping off his hair onto his chest, "I made it that way."

Crowley paused, dark eyes roaming over the svelte body on display before him, "And as such you thought it would be appropriate to drag both of your boy toys here? Right into the centre of our operations?"

"Not something either of them were aware of, until you opened your big mouth." he stepped into a tight pair of black boxer shorts.

Undeterred, Crowley's eyes narrowed, his voice tight and angry, "There's word going round that you started a war yesterday."

"I'll tell you what I told those goddamn angels." Rick growled, tugging on a dark pair of jeans, "S'not my war, but they made the first move when they threatened my family."

Crowley threw a glare at Daryl that set his nerves itching, "We need to maintain a balance with Heaven."

"Why?"

The question seemed to stump Crowley. John wasn't sure if that had ever happened before.

"'Why' what?" he repeated slowly.

Rick didn't answer, instead he threw a condescending look at his King and pulled on a pale grey shirt which clung teasing to his waist. Sauntering over to the foot of the bed, he tugged on a pair of socks, twisting round to his lovers who were waiting for him in bed, "I'm afraid I'm gonna have to send you both back."

Daryl's lips twisted into a smirk, "Now there I was thinkin' you were a gentleman. Now I gotta call my own cab home?"

He grinned, blue eyes sparkling, " Sorry honey. I'm already late for this mornin's breakfast meeting."

"And you do have the boss from Hell." John drawled.

Crowley rolled his eyes in disgust, "Five minutes Rick." and he vanished from his seat. Releasing a breath he wasn't even aware he'd been holding, Daryl threw aside the bed sheet and starting picking up his clothes.

"Where's the-" he was about to question where he'd left his shirt, then he remembered the library, "Fuck."

Rick was pulling on a blood splattered pair of boots, "Where the hell else are people gonna think you've been?"

"Huntin'." Daryl retorted, crossing his arms across, pissed off, "I ain't your whore Grimes."

Bounding up from his place on the bed, Rick slipped his arms around Daryl's waist, murmuring against his skin of his neck, "I beg to differ."

Rolling his eyes, Daryl rested his arms on Rick's shoulders and accepted the kiss that worked up towards his lips. John lingered near the window, taking in the view. There were Walker's everywhere, so densely packed he could see them from this high up, a shuffling mass of dead things gridlocking what used to be one of the world's most vital cities. His heart thudded and sadness twisted him deep down.

It shouldn't be like this. How did the world get so goddamn wrong?

"John." Rick murmured, no doubt picking up the shift in his emotions, "S'time to go."

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he turned. Strode over and slipped one hand around Rick's narrow waist, the other around Daryl's, pulling them together. Kissing Rick because that need sure as hell wasn't going to go away anytime soon, all tied up and growing alongside this fresh new thing with Daryl he couldn't have ever seen coming.

_Don't forget my warning John._

It's said quietly this time, whispered gently into his mind. There was a cool rush of air. Dismissed once again. Landing back where all this started with unerring accuracy.

Thankfully nobody was around just yet. Spotting his shirt, Daryl snatched it up off the floor and flung it over his shoulder, looking sidelong at John, "Dunno 'bout you-but I could use a shower."

Though his stomach was still knotted with uncertainty and fear, John couldn't resist that hint of playfulness. Daryl strode off and he followed. He truly was filthy. Come and lube were crusted over parts of his body that weren't exactly comfortable.

"You think Rick's in trouble?" he asked Daryl's back.

"Nah." Daryl glanced over his shoulder, blue eyes glinting, lips firm, expression loyal and hard, "I think he's gonna tear the world apart."

John frowned, almost relieved that they were on the same page, "Yeah." he sighed, "Me too."


	16. Chapter 16

Dean wasn't entirely sure how it happened, but somewhere between them agreeing to help Michonne and Daryl's people settle in and Lisa taking over to show them some of the more idiosyncratic features of the bunker, he and Sam had wound up on babysitting duty.

Which so far consisted of Dean playing on the floor of the appointed kids room with a surprisingly sociable Judith, who was seriously one of the cutest things he'd ever seen. Currently holding joint place with Ally who was slumped on Sam's lap, following his fingers as he read her Harry Potter.

She was frowning a little, asking him to repeat words here and there, but otherwise she was happy to listen, absorbed in a world that was probably as familiar as it was unfamiliar. A kid not much older than her, having to accept that there was unexplainable evil in the world that just existed to cause as much devastation as possible. But with the added comfort of knowing that the older she got, the better she'd be at kicking it's ass.

Truth was, Dean was just as involved as Ally. And only a little jealous of her spot. Sam's deep voice was suited for this kind of thing. Even yet expressive, never dominating the story. Letting it take its own pace.

It was making him a little nostalgic for their childhood. Memories of holding Sam like than when he was still a kid, all skinny and scruffy with big bright eyes and serious questions. Night's curled up in the back of the Impala as Dad drove up some endless highway, the roar of the engine and Sammy's steady breathing in his ear.

Looking at the man he'd become, it seemed unbelievable now that there was a time when Sam used to fit so neat in his arms. Temperature running high, gangly, all knees and elbows. Looking at him like he was the best thing in the whole goddamn world. Full to bursting with so much love and trust Dean was sure even then he would never be worthy of it.

Judith had slumped back into his arms, her big eyes drooping heavily. Ally was fast asleep as well. Careful not to jostle them both, Sam and Dean tucked them into bed. Together they slipped out into the hallway, both quiet, lost in their own memories.

Sam slunk into their room, because they were passing it, and Dean followed, because he went where Sammy went.

Sighing a little, Sam sat at the end of the bed, while Dean lingered, leaning against the closed door. Hands flat, eyes hovering around their room. It wasn't tidy. At some point they'd started buying stuff, books for Sam, DVD's for Dean, magazines, newspapers. Things they would have once left behind accumulated. Taking up surfaces. Gathering dust, with dirty clothes abandoned in rough piles across the floor.

Dean always assumed that of the two of them, Sam would be the tidiest. He was a prissy bitch that ate salad. Truth was he was as useless as any guy that had grown up used to someone else eventually picking up after him. And Dean had got sentimental about the stuff here. A reminder of what was happening before everything shut down and the dead started walking the earth.

"What you building up to Sammy?" Dean asked, because it was there, the swirl of something that Sam couldn't clamp down on.

"...I-" he paused, ran his fingers through his hair, then seemed to find his resolve, "Dean-when we put the world back. If somehow we don't get landed with some stupid impossible mission-I want to get out from the frontline of hunting."

Dean's stare was intent, "You quittin'? Again?"

"No!" Sam groaned, he knew, _knew_ that this would happen, "I'm not quitting! I could never quit-I just don't want to put my life on the line all the goddamn time!"

"And what? Leave it to someone younger, less trained? Risk them-risk the people they're trying to save?" Dean could feel his anger running away from him, "Just so you can put your feet up and congratulate yourself on an apocalypse survived?"

"Congratulate?" Sam repeated, trying his hardest not to rise to the provocation, "Dean-you know what I learned from this?" Dean's eyebrows flicked up, the one warning Sam was going to get before the real argument kicked off, "That the world ends. And that we-" he gestured between them, "didn't see it coming. There was literally nothing we could have done."

"Yeah-and now we're fixing it!"

"Maybe! And only because dad was able to get the final things we needed!"

"Why you bringin' dad into this?"

Sam groaned and threw the rest of his body back onto the bed, "Dean. All I want is the chance to not die almost every week. For us to spend some time."

"We've had plenty of time!"

"Yes! Because if we go outside for too long we get eaten!"

"And how is that any different from how things were before!"

"The world doesn't rely on just us Dean!" Sam shouted, "Hasn't this proved it to you! All those people out there-they pulled it together! The world isn't just on our shoulders and to act as though it is, dishonours all the people they've fought for and all the people they've lost."

"They didn't have a choice!"

"And neither did we!"

Dean groaned, "We seriously gonna have this fight again!?"

"Yes!" Sam pulled up, "Until you get it through your thick fucking skull that me not wanting to hunt in the same way we've always done, is not the same thing as saying I don't want to be with you!"

"Hunting's all I got Sammy!"

"No-Dean!" he stood up, chest heaving, that vein in his head throbbing, "You have me. You will always, always have me." something in his expression broke a little, "But you De-don't matter what I do, how much I love you, because all you've ever wanted to do is throw yourself in the fire."

Dean could feel his heart beating far too quick, "That ain't true."

"Yeah it is-because you loving me, you taking care of me has always been enough for me." his voice was getting low, shaking with the pressure of what he was just managing to hold back, "I used to think that was good enough for you too, but it just isn't, is it?"

Swallowing through his sore throat, Dean took a breath, "I would do anything for you Sam."

"Yeah, Dean." Sam agreed, "You'll die for me. You've died plenty of times." it was shrugged, bitter, hazel eyes glistening with anger, with something older and darker than that, "You'll do anything for me apart from let go of the death wish and the kick you get out of being punished and live for me."

"Sam-" Dean wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to say next, "I don't know how to be anything else."

"I know." Sam shrugged, "And I'll follow you, because I can't leave you alone in this despair you've been dragging round since Hell."

Dean gulped again, "...Sammy-"

"I don't give a fuck about normal." he snapped, sensing that was the next twist in the argument, "And I know that the dark will always follow us-that we'll probably go still too young and way too bloody. I get that." he ran his fingers through his hair, "But I don't want that to be all we are. Clocks counting down until the day our luck runs out."

Dean sighed and slammed his head back against the door, "I love you Sam. So damn much it-it takes me over. And I don't know what I'm supposed to do with it. All I know best is how to be your big brother, look after you, keep you safe, no matter what it costs."

"You stopped being just my brother such a long time ago Dean that it throws me sometimes when you talk like that." he rested a hand on Dean's neck, long fingers curling round to the nape of his neck, "Between us both we have done some seriously dark shit. I can't even think about the number of people we've taken down by picking each other first, above everything, each and every fucking time." he moistened his lips, "But that's the only thing I won't ever regret. Sure I don't like what I've done, but I can live with it because it kept you alive just a little bit longer."

Dean could hear what Sam was saying. It was possibly the most honest they'd been with each other in a damn long time. And it hurt like hell because Sam knew what he was asking. For Dean to make a break with a lifetime's worth of misery and try making the good things permanent. Not treat them as fragile moments that would burst the as soon as something dangerous and world ending came along. Take what they had now and make it better.

"I'm damaged goods Sammy." Dean murmured softly, reaching out to Sam's chest, resting his palm against the heart beating just beneath his ribs, "And I really don't know how I could make you happy outside everythin' we used to do before."

"You say it like I'd know what to do either." Sam muttered, "And I don't. But De I'd like to try. That's all. And if it doesn't work, it doesn't work. We go back to the frontline."

Dean sighed again, "Savin' people is the only thing that makes my life worth something Sammy."

"No it isn't." Sam's voice was hard, "And I want you to think about what it does to me every time you say or think or feel something like that."

His voice had slipped a little into the commanding tone he pulled out when they were alone, and playing. It sent a drop of heat down Dean's spine, pooling low in his gut. Sliding away from the door into Sam's arms, Dean breathed him in, "Okay Sammy-I hear ya. We'll try."

Sam pulled back a little, peering suspiciously into Dean's face. A concession given this soon into a fight was always a lie. A way to let him hear what he wanted and then shut the hell up. This seemed different. If Sam didn't know any better, he'd think Dean was being sincere.

"You mean it?" he demanded.

"Away from the frontline." Dean agreed, "We're sitting on a goldmine here-it would be stupid not to share it just because we'd rather be out killing things ourselves."

"People are gonna die Dean." Sam stated, "You know that."

"Yeah...and I'll never be happy with it. No one's a better damn hunter than me." Sam didn't roll his eyes for a change, so Dean smiled, "But you always do what I do, go where I go. I think maybe it's time I did something for you."

Sam's face broke out into a blinding smile. It made warm unpleasant things bloom deep in Dean's chest. Next thing Sam was kissing him and they were stepping back towards the bed. They'd done this so many times it was all instinct now. Sam fell back first, Dean on top of him and they quickly started divesting each other of clothes. When Sam reached for the lube Dean rolled off, getting into position when Sam grasped his wrist, "No. Not today."

Dean eyed Sam, his miles of long, hot naked skin and almost had a full body shudder, "You sure?"

"Yeah." he nodded, "I need this."

Taking the lube, Dean started kissing his little brother with added enthusiasm. It'd been a long time since he'd topped-so long he couldn't even remember the last time-and he suddenly found the prospect a little overwhelming. Nevertheless Sam was already starting to writhe a little restlessly beneath him. Fighting his natural urge to dominate.

Squirting a little lube onto his fingers, Dean slipped a hand down, beneath Sam's beautiful cock, over his perineum and lingered a little once he'd reached Sam's hole. Just tracing the rim. There was a low, threatening rumble from Sam's chest and Dean grinned, biting one rose pink nipple and sliding his first finger up inside. All at once Sam's breathing started to come faster. He was so tight. Almost like new.

Slowly, he explored. Getting used to the muscles that were sucking him in. Sam was a seriously powerful guy and from his position Dean felt every single inch of it. Seemed that at any second he could get thrown off and taken over. The threat of Sam's patience snapping was thrilling, so Dean teased. Took his time. Swallowing Sam down, working slow, building up pressure by gently massaging that little bundle of nerves, stoking the fire, and Sam let him. Settled into not being in the lead. Just rippled and writhed against the sheets. Trusting Dean to give him what he needed.

"Fuck, Sammy." Dean breathed reverently, as three fingers worked his body, "I so need to be in you."

Chest heaving, Sam opened his eyes, looked down, "Then do it."

"Yeah." he nodded to himself, removing his fingers, watching Sam's empty hole flutter with need before crawling up onto Sam's body and kissing red bitten lips. Slipping his hands up beneath Sam's thighs, he heaved them up so those strong calves rested up on his shoulders. Dean lined up and slid in. Sam's body just gave for him and the abruptness of it almost ended it then and there. Sam threw his head back and arched from the bed, rocking down onto Dean's cock. For a few moments he just watched, stunned, as Sam undulated beneath him. Fucking himself on Dean's cock, shameless, strong and so goddamn beautiful Dean almost felt his heart breaking.

"Come on Dean!" Sam demanded.

The command in his voice snapped Dean back into action. He pulled out, pushed back in and the groan that pushed up from his throat at the heat, and the pleasure was echoed by Sam who was flushed and glistening. Hard pecs and flat stomach streaked with sweat, hands grasping the headboard as he urged Dean to go deeper, faster, and he was more than happy to oblige. Hips smashing in and out hard, keeping track of that spot inside that made Sam's back arch and a stream of sexy filth escape from his lips, "That's it Dean. Right there. I want your cock right there-deep inside-I want your come dripping down my ass-I want to feel you there for a week."

"Christ Sammy." Dean breathed, squeezing his eyes shut and concentrating on the feeling. Foreskin being pushed back and forth, his cock massaged by the rippling muscles of Sam's ass. Precome was mixing with the lube, it was getting slicker, Sam's body pulling up tight as the promise of climax got closer and closer.

At some point Sam's legs had slipped down, they were now wrapped around Dean's waist, the heels of his feet pressed into Dean's ass. They were moving as one now. Sam rising up to meet Dean, head buried in Dean's neck just breathing hard.

"Oh fuck!"

It was the only warning Sam gave before he arched and came, streaking them both with hot come. Dean felt his eyes roll back into his head as his orgasm reared up, shattering his body as he kept his hips moving until the last second.

Overwhelmed and out of breath he landed on Sam, who oofed at his weight.

"Come on dude." he urged, "You're heavy."

"You feel too good." Dean muttered, face squished up against Sam's chest.

"Don't care." he shoved and Dean groaned. Reluctantly pulling out. Sam pulled a face at the come that slipped down his thighs as a consequence, "I always forget how gross this is."

"Not what you were saying a minute ago." Dean muttered, curling up against Sammy's side, "Bitch."

"Shut up." he yawned, stretched, "Maybe we should do that more."

"Maybe." Dean shrugged.

Sam seemed surprised, fingers running through Dean's short blonde hair, scratching at that point that just made Dean slip from relaxed into coma territory, "Maybe?"

"Yeah. Fucking you is awesome...s'just not the same." Dean kissed his chest and settled in.

Taking that on board, Sam reached out for a sheet and pulled it up over them. They dozed for awhile. Kissing a little. Holding each other close mostly. Only coming back round at a knock at their door telling them that food was up. They both considered skipping it, but Dean's stomach gave a timely grumble and they reluctantly detached. Dressed.

Before they left, Dean caught Sam's wrist. He opened his mouth to try and say something, about being happy with where they were at, about seriously wanting to try to be something different. Sam seemed to understand his struggle and just pulled him into his arms. It soothed Dean at once. Always would.

Sighing, Sam murmured, "Come on. Let's get this over with."

They walked slowly towards the library. They could hear laughter and chatter. It was nice. The bunker was always so quiet, with two of them rattling around a space created for many more. The possibility of it reverting to regular silence was both welcoming and unnerving.

Arriving at the end of the cue, they managed to catch a little bread roll and a decent amount of rabbit stew. Turns out they were actual hunters, as well as excellent zombie killers. Settling down at the far end of the table, both noted their dad and Daryl tucked away together in a corner, sharing what was clearly an intimate conversation.

Charlie leant over to them, looking a little worried and asked, "We ready?"

"Yeah." Dean dipped some bread in the broth, "They been told?"

"Sort of-Daryl already knows, so does Michonne. Not sure what happened after that."

Michonne was feeding Judith, Carl was at her elbow, calm and watchful. That kid was so much older than his years, Dean sometimes found him painful to watch. In a lot of ways it was like looking back at his own history. Born and raised on the road, under fire, with a passionate but uncompromising parent. Difference is Carl could do no wrong in Rick's eyes. Had never been made to feel as though his mistakes could cost them everything. That was a responsibility he had clearly taken on board himself.

"Okay-well-we do it anyway." Dean muttered, looking away when Carl's attention turned in his direction, aware of the scrutiny, "See what the gods have to say and what deals they're prepared to cut."

Charlie nodded in agreement. Everyone was a little tense. If this didn't work they were back to square one. Worse than square one, because Castiel hadn't come back yet which seriously suggested something bad was happening in Heaven. The idea of the world ending even more was a truly scary prospect.

Sam helped Glenn collect all the used plates and the group dispersed to do their own thing. Beth and Lisa already had water running. Sam felt a hand trail down his back, to his waist. Dean squeezed, a short moment of grounding and together they strode off to the interrogation room. John and Daryl were already waiting.

"Thought you might like some backup." John stated.

Dean nodded, "Thanks."

"What about your people?" Daryl questioned, following Sam through and watching as they started to pull apart the stacks, "Don' they want to be here?"

"We offered." Sam answered, "But they decided that they couldn't be in the same room as a bunch of gods."

Daryl looked sidelong at John, "They don't mind you."

"I don't have generations of followers and a selection of stories that mark me as capricious and blood thirsty." John responded.

"Not yet." Daryl murmured, looking thoughtful.

"Not ever." John said firmly, "I don't look down on humans and I don't feed off their adoration."

"Damn right." Dean interjected.

Daryl and John hung back while Sam and Dean checked the three summoning spells in the centre of the devils trap. They weren't expecting it to hold them. It was more of a gesture, that they wouldn't be fucked with. Exchanging one glance, they both set to summoning. Sam was starting with Apollo, Dean with Aion. Two people were needed for Janus.

One by one they set fire to the extremely rare and important artefacts needed to summon ancient gods. Though they were fast and businesslike about the whole thing, the room still hummed a little. There were strange, acrid smells and the ancient words settled in the silence. The combination of Sam and Dean's voice, their calm, commanding stridency affected John a little more than he expected. This spell wasn't for him, yet he wanted to answer its call nonetheless.

Nothing happened at first. John leant a little against Daryl, needing to be grounded. Heart thudding with shock when a voice cried out, "Finally!"

Spinning round, Sam and Dean were confronted with a black guy in a well pressed suit, unremarkable but for the distinctive pin on his lapel. A coin, with two faces.

"Janus." Dean stated.

"Took you long enough." drawled a second voice from the other corner of the room.

This guy was tall, tanned and ripped. Sam met his eyes, surmising, "Apollo."

He smirked, eyes roving Sam's body approvingly, "Baby for you, I'll be whoever you want me to be."

Sam blinked, "...Okay."

"Still acting like an adolescent after all these years." added another voice, attached to a grizzled looking guy who seemed to have bought his own chair with him.

"Aion." Dean greeted.

"You have a request for us." Aion said, sitting straight in his seat, looking down a long straight nose at the humans that had summoned him.

Getting straight to the point then.

"We'd like for you to turn the clock back, to before the dead took over the earth." Dean said, carefully watching as Janus and Apollo moved to the centre of the room, where they had been summoned.

"Why did you not summon Chronos?" Janus asked, "You have history with him, do you not?"

His eyes were very different colours. One was black, the other was bright white. It was a little off putting. It made Dean feel as though he was being looked at from two very different points of view.

"Yeah-that's why we didn't bother..." Dean replied.

"That, and you require a very specific set of skills." Aion added, standing, he was much taller than Dean assumed, "You need this return to the past to be total. Not just a hop back in time. Every person in this world that has died, turned, or changed by events must return to their lives without knowing what has taken place."

"I'd like to remember."

Three inhuman pairs of eyes settled on Daryl. It was a little unnerving. They may be wearing human skin but they were old, and brutal. He fought the urge to shiver and remained leaning back against the wall.

"Me too."

Sam and Dean spun round. Carl had followed them. He had one hand resting on the gun at his hip, viewing the gods speculatively without a hint of fear.

"You're a boy." Apollo observed, "Why would you want to remember the horrors of this world?"

"Because in this world I killed my mother." he replied, "I never want to forget what that felt like."

"And your sister? She may never be." Aion added softly, respectfully.

"Yeah." he moistened his lips and looked away, to Daryl, who was gazing at him with fierce love and understanding, "But I need to remember the losses. Someone has to. It's not fair that people's heroism, and their weaknesses and their sacrifices should be forgotten. Just so I can go back to being an ignorant kid."

"It is a terrible burden Carl Grimes." Janus said in a similarly reverent tone, "Of all the people in the world, there will be but a few of you that recall this time. It will be lonely. Ask the Winchester's what it is like-to struggle for the sake of a world that is indifferent to your suffering."

Carl observed Sam and Dean. They didn't hurry to disagree with the gods behind them. Carl wasn't sure what they'd been through, but he knew that it had been bad. It was obvious. Dean's first instinct was to always attack, restless and aggressive. Just like when no one was looking an expression of terrible weariness came over Sam. Shoulders hunching, curling in, as though he had already seen and done too much. They treated this world as though it was an extension of something they had simply come to expect, rather than the relentless clusterfuck everyone else perceived it to be. 

"Would you change anything?" was what he asked them instead.

"Kid I wouldn't even know where to start." Dean said emphatically, "The things we've been through over the years, the things we've done, it got so twisted up with each other and saving the world that for us we couldn't have done anything else. Been anything else."

"We didn't have a choice." Sam said softly.

"That wasn't what I asked." Carl replied, before addressing the gods again, "I'll deal with the consequences."

The three nodded solemnly, Apollo responding, "We respect that wish."

"So...you'll do it?" Sam asked quietly, "What would you like in return?"

"For you to broker protection for us." Janus replied.

"Sure." Dean had no idea how they would protect gods but he was up for the challenge, "From who?"

"The Hell King." Aion's tone was respectful, if hushed.

"Crowley?" Dean said, grinning, "No problem."

"Not Crowley." Janus corrected, "This happens sometimes, so close to an event. Things get a little mixed up."

"We mean Crowley's current general." Apollo said, "You call him Rick Grimes."

"We know him as Hell King." Janus clarified, to silence.

Daryl and John stared at one another, not shocked, as such, because on some level they knew things with Rick had started to get out of control. He'd been walking his own path for a long time. But they could never have predicted this. Hell King. There could never be a return from that.

"That's not possible." Carl spoke up first, "My dad can't become King."

"He won't have a choice." added another voice, followed by a crash as Chuck stumbled into the nearby stacks, "John! There you are! You were supposed to meet me in Tahiti."

John shot him a murderous look, "I had more important things going on." he gestured impatiently to the room, "Like this."

Chuck took in the room, smiling a little, nodding to himself, "Big moment."

"What did you mean?" Carl demanded, no idea who this guy was, not interested in the accumulation of more weird shit, "That my dad won't have a choice?"

Chuck's smile faded as he looked over at the boy standing alone in a room of men and monsters, "When he kills Crowley, the mantle of King will pass to him."

"That's not how it went before." Sam said, gripping Dean's shoulder to stop him from striding over and punching God the face, "There was a power struggle."

"Yeah-there was." Chuck took a swig of whiskey, "But the Throne of Hell is way more than just a chair. Lucifer left a little bit of his essence in it." deciding a chair would probably be a good idea he conjured one and dropped heavily into it, "It's become kind of sentient over the few millennia's it's spent in the Pit. To sit on the Throne is to command Lucifer's legacy, his fury and his power. You need to be worthy and Crowley stopped being that the minute he became a blood junky and developed that completely creepy boy crush on Dean."

Sam tilted his head, acknowledging that to be completely true, "Okay-so the Throne likes Rick. Why?"

Chuck sipped from his drink, eyeing Sam carefully, "Of everyone here, you know my son the best. What do Rick Grimes and Lucifer have in common?"

Dean felt the hand on his shoulder tighten and he glanced round, Sam's expression was dark, "A desire to remake the world."

Chuck nodded, "And Rick is more than capable. He's running circles round Heaven and Hell at the moment. It's actually pretty impressive."

"Why would Rick kill Crowley?" John asked, striding over and snatching the bottle of whiskey out of Chuck's hand, ignoring his protest, "Crowley's the only one that can change him back-and I know he doesn't want to be whatever he is right now forever."

Chuck stared at him, "You mean you seriously haven't worked it out yet? Come on John. Think about it."

John seemed nonplussed. It was Daryl who got there first, "Son of a bitch!"

"Err?" Dean asked, eyebrows raised, "Wanna share with the class?"

"The demons that showed up back at the fort-they had orders not to kill me, but everyone else. Crowley sent them. Of course he fuckin' sent them!"

Chuck pointed and grinned, "Ding ding ding! Right answer."

John groaned, "Son of a bitch." he flung back some whiskey, "How quick did he figure it out?"

Chuck eyes tightened as he thought about it, "...At most, forty seven seconds after Daryl got in contact."

Daryl sighed and glanced at Carl who was looking at Chuck as though he wanted to shoot him, "My dad cannot become the King of Hell. We have to stop it from happening."

"Sorry kid, it's pretty much a done deal." Chuck's voice was a little more sympathetic than his words, "Right now your dad is leading a legion of Knights into Heaven and he's going to succeed in crippling it so completely, there's no way it can ever be the same place again."

"Cas is in Heaven!" Dean shouted, "You just gonna sit there and let it happen! The Angels are your children!"

Chuck rubbed his eyes, slumping down in his battered old arm chair, "Look, Dean, you might not believe it but I can't actually stop him."

"You're God!"

"Yes-and I understand that some things need to happen." Chuck retorted irritably, "Heaven needs to reform."

"Doesn't mean angels need to die." John interjected, voice low and intense, expression dark and inscrutable.

"There's a power vacuum at the moment in Heaven and Hell, which Rick can bring to an end. In the long run it'll be better for the rest of the world."

"Not if we turn the clock back." Sam said, "Rick goes back to being human-this never happens."

Chuck nodded, "Yes, but you have-" he looked at his watch, "ten minutes to make this decision final. Because once Crowley dies, Rick steps outside time. He'll become my opposite and pretty much unstoppable."

"And we won't ever get him back." John stated, somewhat bleakly.

"No." Chuck agreed solemnly, "You won't."

Daryl ran his fingers back through his hair, groaning in frustration, "Then we better fix it. Now."

Carl nodded in agreement, he addressed the three waiting gods, "Can you do it?"

"Yes."Aion bowed his head in agreement, "Though if you intend to prevent Rick Grimes from becoming the Hell King, the terms of our agreement need to change."

Dean and Sam exchanged a look, sighing, accepting the inevitable. Sam squared his shoulders, "What do you want?"

Apollo's expression darkened, he smirked, "I used to take virgins, but you'll do just fine."

Rage tore through Dean and he growled low in his throat. In two seconds he had Apollo shoved up against the nearest wall, knife against his ribs, "You don't touch him!"

Apollo's pale golden eyes flashed, Dean went flying, weapons were drawn and at some point their negotiations descended into a brawl. And in the middle of all that Crowley appeared. Snatched Carl. Vanished again.

"No!"

Daryl hardly had time to breath, to think, to panic because seconds later Rick materialised in the room mid stride. Python in one hand, machete in the other. Eyes bright blue and head inclined as though he was scenting blood. Not that it would be difficult, he was freaking covered in it. Arms, face and clothes splattered in red and gore, full of purpose and fury.

He paused, took in the room. The three gods flinched when he looked at them, the corner of his lip curling into an unpleasant sneer. He pointed at John with his machete, "Was he here?"

Throat dry, John nodded. Exchanged a glance with Daryl, who was clearly hinting at him to hold back. To not do or say anything until they could be sure of Rick. Where his bloodlust was likely to land.

Thankfully, perhaps, Rick's attention fell on Chuck. For one long, long moment they simply stared at one another. Chuck felt his human heart start to pound. They weren't supposed to meet. Rick wasn't supposed to be here. The thing he was beneath his skin started to react and rebel, drawn irresistibly to the dark, shining, dangerous thing Rick Grimes had embraced and reshaped so it suited _his_ needs.

In one, blinding moment of perception Chuck finally understood what this was. Rick. By virtue of his own nature he had become something less and something more than Lucifer, than any one of the demons he commanded. Rick was a man. A human man, driven to do desperate, soul destroying things for the people he loved.

God gulped, a small bead of sweat dripping down his spine. Fear. This body was afraid.

Without his expression shifting, Rick shot Chuck in the shoulder and strode forward, grasping him by the bloody wound and hauling him up against the nearest wall, chair clattering behind them. Gasping and shifting in agony as shockwaves of pain made him weak, all of Chuck's senses narrowed on Rick alone who was in his face, snarling, "You should be ashamed of yourself."

Chuck opened his mouth, managing to scratch out a weak, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" it was a hiss, cold, enticing and Chuck's head fell back against the wall in a weak attempt at pulling away, "This world is in ruins-you have failed your children time and time again and sorry is all you have to say?"

Chuck felt tears starting to line his eyes as another surge of pain made his stomach roil with nausea, "What else can I say? I didn't mean for this to happen."

Rick pulled in closer, their bodies pressed together now and Chuck felt it all. The things surging beneath Rick's skin. The overwhelming fury at the what they had been forced to endure. So many friends and family lost. Murdered, consumed, left behind for the sake of survival alone. Memories of a life before growing dim, tarnished and surreal. Something impossibly idealistic in comparison to the place they were now. The sheer bone crushing hopelessness of it all.

Yet something else shot through all of that. The most pure, terrible love he'd ever experienced. A flame, burning brighter in spite of everything. It was tied up with everything Rick was, who he used to be, what he could become. That fierce and unconditional need to protect his children. The surging, relentless passion reserved for Daryl and John equally. For them alone. And his resolve. That those that ought to have justice received it.

Sam and Dean Winchester loved like this. Obsessive, all consuming. The best and worst of human nature knotted up with this word, this sensation. At its base perfect. Without it Sam and Dean wouldn't have been able to save the world. They were just two men, who faced down an apocalypse fighting powerful enemies and compulsively destroying each other. Because they couldn't bear it. Bear each other. Couldn't stay together, couldn't stay apart. Yet somehow they managed it against odds that were truly impossible. Still standing, still together.

Love came first. Family came first.

"I can hear your heart breaking." Rick whispered into his ear, the iron, smoky smell of his hot skin invading Chuck's mortal senses, "You are unworthy of us."

Chuck gulped, croaked, "I know."

Rick's gun and machete were pressing awkwardly against his body. Chuck tried to push away again and couldn't, he was shoved back, Rick's hard thigh pressing between his legs, "I killed hundreds of your children today, and I will kill more." it was a soft, cruel taunt that slipped beneath the tender flesh of his skin, skating across nerve and bone, "Then I'm going to burn down your empty Throne, make sure no one has to endure this ever again."

"You can't do that." Chuck said quietly, forcing himself to hold Rick's crystal blue gaze, "And it's arrogance to assume you can control people's will."

"I don't want to control them." he looked at Chuck like he was an idiot, "We'll always be selfish assholes. But this dumb system you've got goin' needs to change. Splittin' the world into good and bad, Heaven and Hell-there ain't no reward wherever you go. At least in Hell there's power waitin' if you wanna take it. But for the good-they get nothin'."

"You get the best moments of your life." Chuck muttered, gulping again, blinded and overwhelmed by the force of a will far more dangerous than Lucifer's. Lucifer had been an angel. Cold, unfeeling and logical until the end. Rick wasn't-he was a man. All instinct, driven by love, grief and experience. He had long since abandoned morality. He loved. And he was destructive. Almost dictionary definition of Chaotic Neutral.

"Alone." Rick snapped, "You would condemn me and mine to a lonely delusion-an echo of the past-and leave us with nothing more to do, no reward, no more change when that's what we are, what we do best."

Chuck's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, "You want to democratize Heaven."

Rick's lips curled into a smile, eyes shifting back to their human shape and he pushed up even closer so they were pressed chest to chest. Chuck knew he was being seduced into submission, that his stupid human body and eternal spirit were just thrilling at the prospect of a new, exciting shift in cosmic forces.

"I want recognition and reward. Demon's serve a purpose. Angel's serve a purpose. I see no reason why they can't work together when needed." his voice dropped, "An idea I believe you explored with the Winchester's. It has promise."

Chuck shifted again. He wanted to hitch his legs up around Rick's waist and just expose his throat to those teeth that had already tasted human flesh. It was fucking insane. He was half hard. Desperate for this almost human man to tear apart this almost human body. Release his soul from its confines so he could expand once again. Feel the fabric of the world as he used to, when he had created his Children and deserved the name Father.

"You're arrogant, blood thirsty and dangerous." Chuck breathed, aware that his skin was flushing with an unwelcome, desperate flush of pleasure, "Even Lucifer wasn't as insane as you are-and he literally wrote the book on crazy."

Rick smirked, rested his lips to the side of his and breathed, "And now you're mine." it was killing Chuck not to twist his head round, to taste that blood red mouth properly, "And there ain't nothing you can do about it."

All at once his attention shifted, snarling again, muttering, "Carl." and he strode away again in a shimmer of dark blue light.

The sudden drop of leverage forced Chuck to stumble, only managing to catch himself last minute to slide down the wall he'd just been held against. Shivering with pain and uncertainty, he buried his head in his hands.

"Fuck." Chuck muttered.

A child's scream pierced the silence.

"Fuck." 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has all the emotional subtly of the programmes that inspired it (which is zero), and all I can do is apologise.
> 
> Sorry guys.

At first no one moved. There was another scream, followed by the sound of gun fire. Dean glared at Chuck, "You gonna do something!"

Chuck's head remained buried in his arms. The three god's of time held their uneasy pose, not sure who they ought to take commands from anymore.

"John follow Rick!" Daryl ordered, "Stop him. Save Carl." he pulled out the crossbow he'd kept concealed in the back of the stacks, pointing at John, expression cold and fierce, "I ain't fuckin' losin' him. I ain't losin no more." and he was gone. Flanked at once by Sam and Dean.

"Chuck." John growled.

Without looking up he waved one hand and sent John on his way. To the opposite side of the country, to another battle while violence played out once again in the bunker Sam and Dean had tried to make home.

Crowley left a rip behind. A gateway to Purgatory and all the monsters he'd banished were finding their way through. Direct into an all you can eat buffet. He watched, because that's all he'd ever done.

Sam and Dean cataloguing enemies and taking them down. Daryl handling his crossbow, calling out the names of his friends and family. Most of them rallied well enough. Garth, as the closest thing there is to a tame werewolf, changed into his animal form. Stalking the corridors and killing what got closest to his people first. Glenn and Beth heading direct to the children. Doesn't matter. They're too late.

Chupacabra got there first. Tore out Ally's throat. Took Judith with it. She's still alive but not for long-it was only scared away by the thud of Daryl's boots. Michonne hears Judith crying and tries to make a break from the battle she's fighting. A Wendigo gets there first. Crushes her against the nearest wall and forces its powerful fist through her rib cage, desperate to get its sharp teeth on her strong heart.

The worst is still coming. Chuck pulls in on himself even further as the cloying, distinct scent of Leviathan fills his nostrils. Jody is the first victim. Knocked out, consumed at once upon the clean floor of the library. Amelia's scream pierces the air and she unloads a weapon at it. The pause she takes to reload is enough. A vampire takes her.

Charlie and Aaron shoot behind Golum in the kitchen-but they aren't natural warriors and they're afraid. Terrified. Ben and Lisa are already dead. The nearest to the rip and the least prepared. Jointly relieved when they spot Sam and Dean striding towards them. Already bloody, sweaty, but still confident.

A Leviathan comes for them. Dean throws Sam aside and grapples it, while Sam grabs what they need from the kitchen to melt its skin. Forcing it down its wide, snapping razor mouth. Kicking it off his brother's body distastefully, Sam helps Dean up from the floor, hands tightly bound, gaze's grim, calm, certain.

_I will always be there._

Across the country John is tearing through a battle of demons and angels. They're in LA. Rick's secondary base outside of New York. It's hot, and surreally sunny. Crowley is holding Carl by throat at the top of one of their many silvery generic office buildings, glinting harsh in the sun. A sea of Walker's beneath them. Drawn by the noise and the scent of fresh meat.

Rick is flanked by four of his most loyal Knights. Souls that had spoken to him in the Pit. Those still closest to human, desperate to escape even a hint of further pain. Victims of Crowley's deals, the ones that had tried to do something right and were damned for it anyway.

"You really think I didn't know it was you?" Rick asked, hands held up in surrender, weapon at his feet, "How much of a moron do you think I am?"

"In my defence, I'm used to dealing with Winchester's." Crowley hissed, eyes darting around for a way out, "Hero's are much easier to manipulate."

Rick's eyes met Carl's.

_I was never a hero._

Drawn by the sound of Judith crying, Daryl fired at the Chupacabra seconds before its sharp claws tore apart her soft skin. Gathering the little girl in one arm he scanned the situation. One damn exit. No way to escape without drawing the attention of every single monster tearing this place apart.

Ducking behind a wall he took in the library. It was a bloodbath. Everyone had tried to escape and the monsters had found them. In one glance he took in the bodies. Michonne, Beth, Jody, Alex, Amelia, Gabriel, Tyreese. Ripped apart with beasts feeding from their flesh, most of them crowding the stairs, trying to break down the door to the outside world. He held Judith closer.

_I can't do this no more._

Sam and Dean stuck together, Aaron, Charlie and Golum behind them, mimicking Rick's style back at the fort. Keep tight, fight back. They had a plan for this-they just needed to get to the control panel.

John finally reaching the edge of their standoff. Breathing deep, keeping calm. There had to be a way to fix this.

Daryl ducking as a vampire snarled towards his throat, just managing to step aside, just managing to get its neck with the machete on his belt. Spraying him and Judith in dead blood.

Aaron was picked off first. Golum went with him. Another Leviathan that hadn't forgotten about the Winchester's. Rabid with hunger and self entitlement as beasts at the top of the food chain. How had they happened? They had no true role in Creation.

It was Charlie that got it, tears streaming down her face. She'd grabbed the nearest gun she could find-turned out to be one of the Glock's forged in Hell that could kill anything. It was a small reprieve. Ammo was low. 

Carl gazing steadily at his father, "Don't do it dad."

Rick seemed confused, tilting his head in that always endearing way when he couldn't understand, a deliberate manipulation to disguise how fast and ruthless his mind truly worked, as deceptive as the soft voice that asked, "Do what?"

"Don't kill him." he answered, shaking in fury, in fear, his young senses so used to the sound of battle he could block it out now. The only thing he wanted was to save his father. To stop him from descending further and becoming the thing holding him hostage. The ends never truly justified the means and the genocide of angels, of demons, was the next step to destroying any more survivors just because he could. Because he thought it was right. Because he thought it would save he and Judith.

Carl didn't want that blood on his hands. To be the reason his father tore apart the last fragile hope of the human race. It was too much responsibility. It wasn't fair.

"Don't. Kill me?" Crowley frowned at the boy he was holding in confusion. Those flickering, never truly extinguished human emotions playing havoc with his demonic instincts for self preservation. It was sad, really. Too smart and sly to be worthy of Lucifer's impossible standards.

Charlie was injured by the time they'd crept round to the far edge of the control panel. A monster they had no name for had torn out the cartilage in her knee and Sam was carrying her as Dean led. Still moving in sync, conscious of one another's bodies at all times.

Ducking low, Sam let her down, clutching the Taurus at his side. It was empty now, but they were so close. They could die here. They could be rewound here. All he needed was another two minutes and he could run-collect one of the discarded weapons on the floor nearby. Charlie needed to keep her gun. She was the most vulnerable of the three of them.

All of Sam's senses were bent on their surroundings, on Dean. Watching the animals on the stairs. Dumb and rabid, unaware that they were so close to fresh meat in their frenzy to escape.

Chuck sighed. Sam. He was so different from Dean, yet so similar. The one that held back. That denied himself even self pity because he thought he was undeserving of the attention. Still playing the role of little brother despite what his soul had endured. Two hundred and forty years in the Cage, undergoing such indescribable torture it denied all rational expectation that he could even talk. Let alone relate to others enough to keep saving their lives.

Unlike Dean he had long since made peace with the cloying, inescapable darkness lurking in his soul. Had long since stopped striving for redemption, no longer saw the point of it. Fuck Heaven. Fuck Hell.

All that mattered was Dean. Dean was the only thing that had ever mattered.

Castiel finally broke free of his enemies, grasping John's shoulder. Panting for breath. His human vessel bruised and bleeding. Trench coat shredded. He could see what was happening, knew that Hell's allegiance was already shifting. Accepting the inevitable.

Daryl was striding away from the library. He knew that somewhere round here was a garage. If there was a garage, there were cars. And if there were cars, there had to be a way out. Judith was quiet in his arms. Big blue eyes, so reminiscent of Carl, of Rick, wide open and watching. She was aware of yet more urgency. Knew it was time to hold back. This wasn't daddy but it was close and she felt safe. Cradled against this chest, with the sharp tool that killed the things wanting to hurt them in his other hand.

Crowley eyed Rick carefully. He had been an idiot. Too greedy and too hasty. Desperate to take advantage of this crippled world, to turn it into another of Hell's domain's and shape it properly. With organisation and insight. He should have known that it wouldn't have worked. Should have known that the Throne had led him to Rick Grimes to suit its own treacherous purpose.

He could see Castiel watching. Ready. With that stupid elder Winchester at his side, practically foaming at the mouth, murder coming off him in waves. Rick's doomed lover unaware that his lust would drag him into darkness.

That seemed like a good idea. He was done for whatever. Might as well leave the maximum amount of destruction behind. Give Rick that final push into the Pit he'd been waiting for from the moment he'd woken from that damn coma.

Dean's eyes were narrowed. With nothing much to do apart from sit around and prepare for the worst, he and Sammy had planned. Things were always going to get in-they always got in. The mess at the fort had proved that. They'd broken the bunker down into zones and at the moment he was doing what he could to blindly drive the monsters back towards the library. Most were there anyway so it was convenient but there were other, cleverer monsters that would have skipped the nearest humans and most obvious exit to hunt them later.

It was simple really. A sprinkler system filled with all the supernatural weapons they had. Salt, silver and holy water. They got pretty much everything. He smirked when he heard the screams, pushing them from one area into another. They'd even prepped for the Leviathan's-figuring if it could hurt them, it could hurt some other monster they'd never heard of. It was satisfying. His blood was pumping. Sammy had his back.

They were gonna survive this.

Then he was gonna tear God a new one.

John's eyes were narrowed against the glare. It was so fucking hot here. As hot as the day he'd first laid eyes on Rick all those years ago. Relentless, sexy and fearless. So much potential.

Now, though. Now he was running out of time.

Rick spared him a single glance. It said everything. It said nothing.

Sam heard it before he felt it. A step, followed by the deliberate movement of air, heading directly towards Dean. The only defence he had left was his body. No more ammo. No knives. They'd been dropped or broken on the way here. The nearest loaded gun belonged to Charlie and she was a civilian. 

A fucking Wendigo. It broke through his spine, tearing through the soft flesh of his lungs like it was butter. Like it was nothing. Piercing his heart.

Charlie shouted in disbelief, fired. One bullet in the heart took it out. 

Daryl made it to the garage, dripping wet, stepping over the bodies of monsters paralysed by whatever the Winchester's had put in the water system. With one hand he pulled the chain that tugged up the garage door. Settled Judith in a side seat as he jump started the Impala nearby.

Dean spun round at the noise, automatically looking for Sam. His cover. His partner. Spotted him on the floor. Cast aside-that gaping hole in his back. He shouted. No-he screamed.

Chuck cringed as he listened.

Sam's name. Sam's name over and over and over again. Forgetting their enemies. Forgetting their weapons. Dean falling to his knees, gently pulling Sam onto his back.

John blinked. Rick appeared at Crowley's back, one hand grasping for Carl, the other piercing a knife in Crowley's temple.

Too late.

Crowley knew it was coming. With his last conscious thought he flung Carl off the side of the building.

Dean's eyes were burning. Head ready to explode, unable to make sense of this impossible thing. One hand falling on Sam's heart, where it always went when he needed reassurance. Needed to know that everything was okay. It was too late. The Wendigo had got there first.

Beautiful hazel eyes wide open. But they were wrong. They weren't looking at him. They were always looking at him. Intelligent, dark, warm and always forgiving. Always loving. Empty now. Absent. 

Sam. Sammy. His baby boy. Brother, saviour, hero, lover.

Now nothing. Dead-killed-in this shithole place in this shithole time as the world ended bloody and pointless around them.

Dean bent over. Pulling Sam closer. Tears streaming down his face as the pure and final totality of death swept away whatever traces of humanity he was still holding onto. He pressed his lips against Sam's. They were still warm. Hours ago they'd been hot. Responsive. Streaming love, filth and frustration. Crying out in ecstasy, in command. He pressed their foreheads together as he struggled to breath.

Why was he still breathing? What was the point? He'd failed. Sam was dead. They were all going to die. Let it all burn to ash. He didn't care anymore.

All that mattered was Sam. Sam was the only thing that had ever mattered.

Daryl got the car moving, reached as far as the end of the tunnel leading out of the bunker before he had to stop. Surveying the scene.

The noise from the bunker. It was always noise.

Walkers were there, a herd of them, taking up the scrubland. It was dark and he couldn't see them all, but they were there, groaning that endless disgusting rattle. He never understood how they could make noise. Their lungs didn't work. It was retarded. He looked at Judith who was watching him. Waiting.

Fuck it. Whatever happened Judith was gonna live. Lil'Ass Kicker had held on this long. He sure as hell wasn't going to let her down now.

Putting the car into gear he slung round-there were less on the left. So he went that way. The car jostling against the rough ground, bouncing hard, the body work rattling. He smashed down only those that he had to. Getting random rotten limbs trapped in the tyres would just slow them down.

Besides, this car deserved better. It had got the Winchester's this far. It would keep them going. Fuck God. Fuck the devil. Fuck everything. They needed cover, and weapons, and food. Same as always. Same as it was ever gonna be.

"Carl!" "Sam!" "Rick!" "Dean!" "Daryl!" "Dad!" "Carol!" "Michonne!" "Glenn!" "Jody!" "Shane!" "Maggie!" "Jess!" "Bobby!" "Lori!" "Ben!" Lisa!" "Amelia!"

It descended into a cacophony of loss. All the people they loved that had been taken, from now, from before. Going back and back and back.

Dean had Sam's body in his lap and a gun in his mouth. Castiel was running for Carl, flying, wings shimmering in the light as the air rushed by. John went for Rick. Tackling him to the ground. Determined to fight off what was coming. Daryl drove into the night though he didn't know what he was driving to, or for.

It was too much. This was too much.

_You are unworthy of us._

Chuck stood up. The gods had tried to leave long ago and he'd stopped them, and now he knew why.

Castiel caught Carl's wrist and pulled him to safety.

John dragged Rick away. The two of them slipping into a void of burnished gold.

Dean pulled the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are totally welcome. Please don't hate me!


	18. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! Thanks everyone whose read, commented and given me kudos so far. It's hugely hugely appreciated! 
> 
> Please keep letting me know what you think.

Fucking Texas. It was damn hot, and damn noisy. It was the one thing he still struggled with. Just how loud everything was, or used to be and is again.

Daryl was in the corner of a bar, hunched over his drink, keeping an eye on the door. He felt more comfortable knowing who was coming and going. There was a gun at his hip that he tried not to touch compulsively in case the creature he was here to kill noticed. He still preferred a crossbow but carrying around heavy weaponry was a little frowned on these days.

Sam and Dean weren't sure of the lore, but they reckoned it was a badb. Some sort of banshee that influenced men to kill one another, fed their madness then ate their hearts. As he sipped from his whiskey, Daryl watched from the corners of his eyes. A tall, pale woman with long black hair in a clinging red dress was leaning near a pool table, sipping slowly from a glass of wine. It was impressive that a place as downgrade as this even sold wine, supposing that's what it was. The bitch had a rep for blood drinking.

The atmosphere shifted the longer he lingered. People were snapping. A guy shoved his friend, the friend punched back, and a classic All American brawl kicked off. Smashed glasses. Broken bar stools. The badb watched, smirked, before slipping outside into the dark. Knocking back the rest of his drink, Daryl escaped the chaos and pursued.

She headed down an alley, and disappeared, because this was obviously a trap. Daryl's senses were still keen and the moment he heard a brush of air he ducked, spun, and managed to get a bullet in her chest. Then she screamed.

"Shut up." he shoved a blessed knife up through her throat and stepped aside before she got any blood on him. The body disintegrated, into gore, bone, then dust. It was handy how some of these things took care of themselves.

Slipping the gun in his holster, Daryl strode away and jumped onto his bike, hightailing out of this place. There was a motel three hours out that would do for the night. He was beat. And he had a long journey back to Georgia tomorrow.

\--

A few days later he was woken by the sound of ringing. Groaning, he reached out blindly and snatched the phone off the side, barely managing to croak out, "Hi."

"Rise and shine princess."

Daryl rubbed his eyes and rolled onto his back, looking blearily up at the stained ceiling, "What the hell you want?"

"We're swinging south. What state are you in?"

"Just crossed into Alabama last night."

"Awesome. There's this diner just outside Jasper on Route 22. See you there in a few hours."

Sighing, Daryl hung up and put the phone down. This was the first night he'd slept more than three hours uninterrupted in weeks and the freaking Winchester's had to ruin it. Running his fingers through his hair, Daryl yawned checked his messages. Something incoherent and pissed off from Merle. A request from Carl to give him a call.

"Mornin' sugar."

He flicked up a glance at the guy he'd picked up last night, under the influence of way too much whiskey. Pretty face, nice legs and an ass that could take a pounding. Sighing, Daryl put the phone down and nudged the arm draped possessively across his chest and slipped out of bed. His head was throbbing and he could feel last night's bar all over his skin, so he headed to the bathroom, saying over his shoulder, "I'm showerin' then I'm headin' out." and slammed the door behind him before any sort of invitation could be made.

Rinsing under lukewarm water, he dealt with the crick in his neck and quickly washed off last night. By the time he was back, the guy was gone and his wallet had been cleaned out.

"Well I deserved that..." Daryl drawled softly.

Dressing quickly, he shoved everything into his duffle and headed out. This travelling he'd been doing, crisscrossing the country, sometimes to hunt, sometimes just because he could feel his skin pulling too tight. It was helping. A little.

Year ago he'd woken up in Georgia, in the middle of buying a six pack at the store and had freaked the fuck out. Last thing he knew he was streaming down the highway with Walker's all around, his friends and family dead, Rick missing. Now he'd been plunged straight back into his old life.

The town was busy, sunny, cars on the road, people chatting on their phones. Kids running down the street while their moms called out after them. It was so ordinary and so goddamn loud. First thing he did was head home, found Merle passed out drunk on the sofa and almost cried in relief. Did cry, actually. When dad appeared and started shouting at him for being a pussy boy, Daryl punched him out then jumped in his truck and headed direct to King's County.

Turns out when they were on the road they spent precious little time fact checking. He didn't know Rick's address, only his job. Pulling up his broken old truck outside the Sheriff's office he strode in directly and asked at the front desk about Officer Grimes. The girl looked at him suspiciously, before vanishing to get someone. Daryl tried not to pace. He felt like he was about to crawl out of his skin.

He needed to see someone, make sure that all this was real.

"Hey." he spun round, "What do you know about Rick Grimes?"

It was Shane. Looking as self important and sleazy as he ever did before. Hands hitched on his belt, shoulders wide. Stalking forward like the alpha asshole he perceived himself to be.

"That depends." Daryl said softly, mistrust prickling. It'd been an hour at most and he already felt naked without a weapon, "Where is he?"

Shane's dark eyes narrowed suspiciously, "Missing. Six months."

It was a punch to the gut. Daryl took it like a blow and took a step back, "Six months?"

"Yeah." Shane searched him suspiciously, "What's it to you?"

Everything.

"Nothin'." he backed off, "It's nothin' to me." and he stumbled back outside, sat in his truck, forehead to the wheel the reality crashed over him. Whatever it was, the gods, God, they'd managed it. Things had gone back to how there were before. They were safe. No undead plague. No apocalypse.

No Rick.

Once he wiped the tears away, all he could feel was something deeper than relief. He couldn't call what he felt right now happiness. He was fucking furious.

Putting his truck into gear, first place he headed was to Lebanon. The Winchester's were supposed to be experts in this supernatural bullshit, they might have a better shot at making sense of what happened. Turns out they didn't, were as thrown as Daryl at the abruptness of the shift back.

First night with the world fixed up they drank. A lot. Seemed to be the only sensible thing to do. Sam put on some Tom Waits, and they grieved for everyone they loved that had died during the battle. For everyone that had died before. Toasting each name with another shot of whiskey. Saying their goodbyes to that shitty clusterfuck of a world.

Dean's eyes hovered on his brother, a little glassy from drink and something more as he poured them another round.

"To Sam." he held it up.

Sam's lips hovered over his shot glass, something deep and unreadable in his expression. Daryl looked away, he sensed that this wasn't for him. Yet he toasted nevertheless.

"To Sam." he echoed Dean.

They clinked. Sam poured.

"To Dean."

A tear escaped Dean's eyes this time, matching the intense expression on his brother's face, but he managed to gulp and throw back his glass. Accepted the toast and wiped his face. Then they pulled out Sam's computer and started tracking down their people. It was slow going at first. Lack of details, but what Daryl didn't know for sure he inferred.

Carl was safe with Lori. Michonne was still married, with her baby. Tyreese and Sasha were back in Jacksonville and each had a marriage licence attached to their name. Sasha and Bob. Tyreese and Karen. Glenn was settled on Green Farm, with Maggie, Beth and Herschel. Carol and Sophia had stayed together, minus Ed who was in prison on domestic abuse charges. His heart shuddered when he saw the signature on the police report.

"Rick signed this." he gestured to the screen and stood back up, the drink not helping to settle that's hornet's nest buzzing up inside every time he thought about Rick.

"Something must have happened, wherever they were fighting before." Sam murmured, searching for more on Rick's disappearance.

"Yeah." Daryl growled, "Somethin' Chuck couldn't rewrite."

Dean peered round, he had a hand resting on Sam's thigh. Seems there hadn't been a moment since he got here that they weren't touching, "Rewrite?"

"Yeah-Glenn and Maggie didn't meet until we crashed their farm. He was a pizza boy in Atlanta."

"So he gave them happy endings?" Dean demanded.

"Looks like." he threw back more whiskey and handed the bottle back, "I'm glad Carol got away from Ed. If she didn't I was gonna kill him."

Dean looked over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow, "Can't be so trigger happy anymore."

Daryl looked suitably pissed off about that, "Maybe. Got no idea what I'm gonna do now. Only time I was ever any good was when the world ended."

"There's plenty you can do." Sam disagreed.

"The plenty I was countin' on was Rick." Daryl muttered, "Maybe your dad-I hadn't really figured that one out."

"You and me both." Dean pulled a face, "I can't believe my dad was screwing around with you both at the same time."

"Me neither." Daryl sat back down, looking thoughtful, "I was sure Rick would kill us. He's pulled the trigger on people for a lot less."

"Dude he was full blown psycho!" Dean cried.

"You ever fucked crazy?" Daryl questioned, smirking a little, "Rick used to turn me inside out and leave me beggin' for more. Hottest sex I've ever had in my life. Got no idea how I'm meant to fill the gap."

"You think he's not comin' back?" Sam asked, expression soft, sympathetic.

"Maybe, but there's no way I'm gonna sit around doin' crochet waitin' for him. He wants me he can get his shit together and come find me."

"Here here!" Dean held up his glass, Sam burst out laughing, and the mood picked up from melancholy to full blown celebration.

\--

Daryl pulled into the diner, clocking the Impala at once. He smiled a little, before striding through to find them. Dean was attacking a huge slice of cherry pie, while Sam sat at his computer simultaneously working and throwing his brother disgusted looks.

"Y'alright?" Daryl slid in beside Dean.

"Good." Sam flashed a warm smile, put down his computer screen, "You heard from Carl lately?"

"I'm on my way back to Georgia. S'been a year, you know."

A waitress stopped by and he immediately ordered a large cup of black coffee and a burger with extra onions. Dean flashed a charming smile at the waitress as she leant over to collect his empty plate, "Thanks sweetheart. I'll second that coffee."

"Just iced tea for me, thanks." Sam added.

"How's the kid holdin' up?" Dean asked, wiping his fingers on a napkin.

"Better. Still gets nightmares."

"Who doesn't." Dean muttered.

"How was the hunt?" Sam asked.

"Got the bitch." he thanked the waitress as their coffee arrived,"I like the ones that do their own clean up."

Dean pulled a face, "Yeah I sure as hell don' miss luggin' dead bodies around." 

"How's being civilian goin'?" Daryl asked, sipping from his hot coffee.

"Badly." Sam admitted, "We took out two poltergeists on the way here."

"What's here?"

"Houses. Businesses." Dean answered.

"You're movin' out the bunker?"

"Yeah." Dean rubbed the back of his neck, "It's not exactly homely."

"Yeah." Daryl got that, especially with all the memories backed up there, "Heard anythin' from Cas yet?"

Sam shook his head, dark hair catching the light, "Nothing. No sign of Crowley or dad either. Feels like it did before."

"Before what?"

Sam and Dean exchanged a look, and settled on a cliffnotes version of events. Azazel. Devil's Gate. The way they were both played to trigger the end of the world. It was a story that took awhile. Daryl had drank two cups of coffee and finished his burger by the time they'd even got round to the point they were making.

All the big players were off the board, so things had reverted to how they were before. Ghosts, monsters and stray pagan gods. Without so many angels and demons roaming the earth, the chances of things spiralling into apocalyptic mayhem were hugely reduced.

"Never thought I'd reach an age where I'd look back on our childhood as the best version of events." Sam said ruefully.

Dean half smiled, "You're tellin' me."

Daryl yawned and checked the time, "Guys I need to start movin'. I promised Carl I'd be around for his birthday tomorrow."

"Overnight ride?" Dean asked.

"Sure. Beats sleepin'."

Sam and Dean tilted their heads and flashed an almost identical expression of agreement. Daryl snorted a laugh and got out from the booth. Missing the joke, the brother's followed.

"Call us." Dean warned.

"Yes mom." Daryl grinned.

Sam flashed his killer dimples before reaching out to shake Daryl's hand and pat him on the arm with one giant paw, "Seriously. Don't go off the radar."

"Only if you don't either." he returned, "Later."

\--

The party was far busier, and far more white picket than Daryl was prepared for. Carl the little shit had been holding out on him. There was a barbecue out back, kids were running around. Guys in shorts hanging round a barbeque while soccer moms sat in garden chairs and drank punch. There were balloons and streamers, as well as a big banner announcing Carl's birthday.

Lori spotted him, as did Shane who puffed up and bristled. Rolling his eyes, Daryl barely had time to move his arms out the way before Carl ran for him. The force of his hug sending him back a few steps.

He laughed, "Man you're gettin' strong."

"Think I'm just about up to where I was before we got rewound." he patted Daryl's arms, which hadn't fully regained their muscle mass from before, "You aren't."

"Haven' been carrying round a crossbow for sixteen hours a day." he shrugged.

Carl's expression sharpened. A look so reminiscent of Rick that for just a second Daryl's breath caught.

"You sure you need to hunt?" Carl demanded, "You could settle here."

"And do what? All this? S'not for me. " Daryl shrugged, pulling round his bag and handing Carl his gift, "You'd better keep this hidden from your mom."

Carl peered into the bag, shoved Daryl out the way and hissed, "You got me a gun!"

"Sure I did. You're old enough to handle one."

Carl ran his fingertips along the barrel of the Colt with the same reverence Rick used to, "It's like my dad's."

"Similar model, more up to date."

Carl nodded, "Thanks." he stored the gun discreetly behind a potted plant, "Stay there."

Daryl surveyed the party once more, then pulled out his cell phone. Sam had been working on an off grid forum for hunters to exchange tips and notify one another of trends around the country. There was a request for help a few hours away. He sent a quick response, saying he was in the area and could be around later this evening.

"Here."

Carl shoved Judith direct into his arms and he grinned, "Well look at you baby girl."

Judith shoved her hands in her face and giggled hard. She was almost the same age as when he saw her last time. Hitched up in the Impala and splattered in vampire blood. Now she was freshly washed, golden hair and big, bright blue eyes.

"You know she hardly likes anyone." Carl said, handing him a bottle of beer.

"Really?" he jogged her a little, unable to help himself pulling faces because god had he missed Judith.

"Yeah." Carl flashed a grin, eyes glittering, "She hates Shane."

"Shane's a douchebag." he looked to Judith and repeated in a childish voice, "Isn't he? Isn't he a douchebag?"

Carl laughed, "Yeah. He's still sniffin' around, thinks he can take my dad's place."

Daryl made a contemplative noise, "Good luck with that."

"Dad's irreplaceable." Carl agreed with a short nod, "I don't suppose you've heard anything?"

"Nothin'." he said quietly, "Heaven and Hell have gone quiet."

Carl seemed frustrated, "I just can't accept that he's dead."

"You and me both." Daryl took a sip of beer, "I can't imagine John lettin' it lie. Not the type of man he is."

Carl half agreed, "Sure." he sighed, sounding considerably older than he looked, "So no news is good news right?"

"For now, yeah." he agreed, forcing something nearing a smile when Lori approached, "Hi."

"Hi." her smile was hesitant, "Judith likes you."

"Yeah." he smiled at Judith, properly, "She's a Lil'Ass Kicker."

"That's what Carl calls her." her dark eyes were levelled on him carefully and Daryl fought the urge to fidget. He'd forgotten that Lori was a formidable woman in her own right.

"Yeah well..." he trailed off, small talk was never really his thing.

"Carl do you mind getting Judith some more juice?" she asked.

Carl gave Lori a look, like he knew he was being dismissed so the grownups could talk but he went with it anyway. Daryl shoved a hand in his pocket and took another sip of beer.

"It's good-that you've kept in touch." she slipped her hands into the back pocket of her jeans, a pose she used to do all the time, "With Carl I mean."

"Yeah." he nodded, "He's a great kid."

They needed a cover story to explain why a guy Lori had never met before could be close friends with her son. What they settled on was Daryl saved him from some bullies once and they stayed in touch. It had been a pretty lame lie then. He doubted it was going to stand up to anything now. Lori certainly looked like she wasn't in the mood for bullshit.

"Shane mentioned that awhile back you showed up at the station, looking for my husband."

Daryl nodded, "Yeah."

"And you're close to Carl."

"Yeah."

She huffed a breath and took a discreet step forward, "Daryl I'd like you to be honest with me." her gaze was intent, "I knew Rick for years before we married and he was always a little wild." Daryl quirked a grin that she answered, "Yeah. I know. I knew that he always loved someone else but he never talked about it and I never asked. I also know that there were times when Carl and I weren't enough to keep whatever demons he was fighting at bay." there was a faint colouring on her pale cheeks, "Are you one of his lovers?"

Daryl's blush answered Lori's and he looked away, jerked a nod, "Yeah."

"Oh." she seemed relieved, "Good."

"Good?" Daryl asked, surprised, "Why's that good?"

"'Cos I could never handle Rick on my own." she answered honestly, "Moron had the sex drive of a teenage boy."

Daryl burst out laughing, "Ah man he did."

"It was worse if he'd just done a bust." Lori tucked her arm in his and slowly walked him into the party, "The danger used to make him hot-he'd keep me up all night. Didn't matter if we both had work the next day."

Daryl caught her eyes and grinned, leaning in a little close and saying under his breath, "Best fuck of my life."

Lori snorted, then laughed, "God, yes. Though he had plenty of practice." she snagged them both another bottle of beer, "I used to watch him reel them in. Play the clean cut nice guy, softly spoken, charming."

"Those eyes were a weapon."

She nodded, "Yeah, they were." she grinned, then rolled her eyes, "Next thing he'd whisper about a quick visit to the bathroom. Twenty minutes later he'd slink out looking pleased with himself." she took a sip from her beer, gesturing with it in disbelief, "I saw a girl faint on her way out behind him once. Actually fucking faint! And judging by the goddamn noise it was because he'd literally made her come so hard it blew her brains out."

Daryl sipped from his drink and said sympathetically, "I know how that feels."

Lori grinned, looking a little mischievous, "He ever tie you up?"

Daryl couldn't remember ever talking with Lori like this before. Wasn't really time for it between running for their lives and dying. Thinking about it though, even back then their positions were similar. He was the only person besides her that Rick trusted. Probably trusted more, especially following the whole mess with Shane. Really most of the time he was just amazed that someone so uptight and uncertain could hold Rick's attention.

In this world it made a lot more sense. She was sassy, relaxed and confident. A good mother, popular and way more beautiful that he remembered. It was actually pretty nice, talking to someone about Rick that knew him, from before he started walking the path to damnation. After a couple more beers and a promise to visit again soon he headed off.

The guy needing help on the next hunt had got in touch with him and he had work to do.

\--

"I fuckin' hate vamps." Daryl growled.

"You're tellin' me."

Daryl threw an irritated scowl at idiot who'd got them into this mess. They were trapped in a goddamn nest with at least ten more super strong, predatory assholes crawling around in the dark. He was already scratched up, muscles burning, and they'd been cornered far away from the exit. Only option was to fight their way out.

"Wouldn' have mattered so much if you'd bought the dead man's blood!" he hissed, "How the hell could you fuck that one up?"

The kid flushed a little uncomfortably, "I thought that's what they had in hospitals."

"Did you go to the morgue?" he demanded, head tilting as he listened out.

"I-no."

"Fucks sake." he huffed and bought his temper under control, "You listen for me and do exactly as I tell you? Understand?"

The kid, Tom Something, nodded his head very quickly, "Yeah. Sure."

"Good." Daryl checked out the hallway, it was dark, of course, "Come on. Let's get the hell out of here."

Vampire's were idiots, he decided. Feral and stupid. They were outnumbered, sure, but the kid was brave at least. He obeyed and went where Daryl ordered him to. By the time they'd made back to the front of the creepy ass plantation house most of them were dead. Their frenzy beat back by Daryl's experience and Tom Something's ability to mimic it.

Naturally by the time they made it downstairs the remaining vamps decided to make their last stand. Two guys and a woman, with long dark hair and shimmering blue eyes. She was pretty hot, actually. And pissed off.

"Goin' somewhere?" she drawled, fangs drawn.

Daryl wiped some blood off his face with the back of his hand, "I'm a busy guy. Things to see, people to do." he flashed a smile, "You know how it is." he made a beeline for her, she was clearly the boss. She shoved him hard and he went crashing back onto the creaky stairs. She was also stronger than the rest of the nest. Of course. He kept a firm grasp of his machete and just managed to duck aside as she lunged for his throat. They struggled. Tom Something cried out, he'd lost his weapon and was down.

Growling with frustration, Daryl found enough purchase to kick her off. Pouncing before she got her balance and sending her head flying. The other's were dispatched easily enough after that.

"Woah." the kid was panting, eyes wide as saucers, "That was awesome."

Daryl glared in disbelief, but held out a hand to drag him up off the floor anyway, "Kid you need to get your head checked." he holstered the weapon, "We need to blow this joint. Then head to the nearest bar. I need a fuckin' drink."

Tom Something wasn't strictly invited to join Daryl's post hunt steam letting but he came along anyway. It was late, most of the patrons were on the right side of drunk and Daryl was feeling a little reckless. He was starting to get it now. Rick's link between sex and danger. Plus away from that skanky house Tom Something seemed pretty promising. Pale skin gently flushed with drink, loose blonde hair soft grey eyes. It helped that he was practically drooling already. The only decent thing to do was put him out of his misery.

"You look a little hot." Daryl leant over, breathing in his ear, "Let's get some air."

The kid gulped, then nodded, saying in a tight voice, "Y-yeah. Let's."

Daryl led them round to the alley at the back of the bar. He was buzzed and horny. If the kid was any good, then he'd bring him back to the motel and fuck his brains out. If not, well, he'd return the favour and keep on moving. No harm no foul. The kid headed for his lips and Daryl let him try for awhile, though the motion felt empty, so he manoeuvred Tom onto his knees.

"Wanna see you with those hot lips wrapped around my dick." he suggested in a gravelly voice. Tom nodded eagerly and fumbled with the zip of Daryl's jeans, groaning with pleasure when he finally got Daryl free and just stared, as though it was the first dick he'd ever laid eyes on, "Well don't just look at it."

Tom flashed him a guilty look, "Right." and got started. Daryl flung his head back against the damp wall, calloused fingers knotted in Tom's soft hair as his mouth started on an inexperienced but eager blowjob. Sloppy, with a little accidental graze of teeth, followed up soon after by gag as he tried to take him down too hard and too fast. But Daryl wasn't here to hold up a number and critique. It was fuckin' good enough.

"Ah-yeah..."

There was the click of a gun, "You're under arrest for indecent exposure."

Recognising the voice Daryl flicked his eyes open, keeping his hand on Tom's head so he wouldn't pull off, "You gotta be kiddin' me."

Shane was snarling through the darkness, "You know somethin' about what happened to Rick."

"I'm busy right now." he slipped his hands further down Tom's head and got him moving again, unable to hold back a little moan, "Come back later."

Shane strode forward and Daryl pulled out his gun. Didn't need to open his eyes to know exactly how many feet away he was. Tom whimpered, attempted to pull off. The vulnerable noise sent a delicious vibration up his cock and Daryl came fast and sudden down the kid's throat. Tom jerked off and spat out what come he hadn't panic swallowed.

"Sorry kid." loose limbed and sated, he was still fast enough to get out of Shane's way as he came at him with a pair of cuffs. Problem was Shane was a bull headed son of a bitch who fucking fought dirty. They tackled each other onto the floor, Daryl on his back, trying to wrestle back against Shane's weight.

"Stay fuckin' still!"

"Fuck you!" his cock was only loosely tucked back in his jeans and he was more than a little worried about what shit might be on the floor. He'd definitely crunched glass on the way out.

There was a click of another gun. Tom Something had finally woke up.

"Let it go Shane."

Daryl eyes snapped up. It was dark, so dark, but he'd recognise that silhouette anywhere. Shane scrambled up off the floor immediately, expression breaking with relief, "Rick. Where the hell have you been?"

"You don't wanna know." he kept the gun raised and looked down at Daryl, clearly smirking, "Baby you alrigh' down there?"

"Don' you baby me!" Daryl pulled up, his aching body resisting every stage, "What the fuck have you been doin'!"

"I had some stuff to work out." he drawled, blue eyes drifting sidelong to the kid that was watching them all as though they were crazy, "Glad you've been keepin' busy."

Christ that voice. Daryl batted the gun out the way and dragged Rick into a violent kiss, desperate to taste those blood red lips again, diving into the welcoming heat of his mouth and licking it out with his tongue like he could make up for lost time that way. Gripping Rick's shirt he took a deep breath, resting a head against his shoulder, muttering, "I hate you." before hustling Rick up against the nearest wall. Keeping hold of his gun, Rick grinned against Daryl's lips, hitching up so Daryl could pick him up, hands grasping his ass, fingers clawed as though he was on the verge of tearing his pants apart.

Shane cocked his gun again, "Rick!"

Rick sighed, "Busy Shane." and he flung Shane against the nearest wall with enough force to knock him out.

Daryl pulled back, "You still demon?"

"Yeah, kind of, but I'm workin' on it." he rolled his hips down against Daryl's hard on, "That matter?"

"No." he pressed Rick harder against the wall, licking at the column of his throat, breathing in the taste of his skin, biting down just above the collar bone, "Fuck." he groaned, "I have missed you."

Eyes half lidded, Rick leant back against the wall, trusting Daryl's strength. Tom seemed to come out of a trance, shaking awake when he saw Shane's body tossed aside like a puppet without strings. Gulping, shaking, he still found the resolve to remove a hip flask and start chanting the standard exorcism.

Rick raised an eyebrow and advised in a husky voice, "I wouldn' waste your breath kid."

He flung holy water at them both. Daryl glanced over his shoulder, "Fuck-off."

"You didn't burn." he said in a dry voice, unable to tear his eyes away from Rick, "Why didn't you burn?"

"'Cos I'm the goddamn Hell King." Rick's eyes shifted to that deep, unnatural shade of blue, "Now if you'll excuse us, we've got some catchin' up to do." and they vanished from the alleyway.

Tom blinked in disbelief. Took a deep, shuddering breath and headed back to his car on unsteady legs. He stumbled into the driver's seat, staring at the bike Daryl had rode to lead him here. Sighing, rubbing his eyes, Tom grabbed the bottle of vodka he always carried from under the seat and took a long, steadying drag and starting working it through.

So there was a hot guy capable of killing a nest of vamps almost single handed-Tom couldn't pretend he's been the best partner in that situation-and he sucked his dick. That bit made sense. Even the thing with the cop was in the world of sane. The other guy. No.

Tugging his mobile out of his pocket, he signed into the network and put out the question.

_How do you kill something that calls itself Hell King?_

Someone out there would know. Then he'd do what any other hunter would. Find the son of bitch and take it out. Starting the car, he backed out of the parking lot and headed back to the motel. He had stuff to do.

Evil never rested. Never stopped. Bout time good pulled its finger out of its ass and did the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's that.
> 
> I've got plans for a few side stories spinning off from this one-I haven't decided if I should write a full blown sequel yet, I'll see how I feel about it later.
> 
> Otherwise-woo! Thanks for hanging in there everyone!


End file.
